


Liho's Kittens

by QueenPunk



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Captain America - All Media Types, Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Humor, Kittens, M/M, Mentions of PTSD, Multi, Parody, Ridiculous, and Fatal Illness, unnecessary angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-13 18:57:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10519812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenPunk/pseuds/QueenPunk
Summary: Natasha didn't plan to adopt a cat. She also didn't plan for said cat to get knocked up. Now, Natasha has to use every advantage and contact she has to find homes for Liho's kittens. But it seems like superheroes are more willing to rescue kittens from trees than let them into their homes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this work for awhile (about a year, I think) and while it isn't complete it is already at around 40,000 words. 
> 
> Please keep in mind this is all supposed to be a bit over the top and hammy, so if anything seems a bit OOC or out there I can guarantee it was written to be intentionally that way.

Natasha twirled the umbrella above her, indifferent to the droplets cascading onto her shoulders, the water kicking up from her heels and sticking to the back of her legs. Her hair fluttered in the wind, frizzy and unusually messy. She struggled to keep the umbrella still as the gust persisted.

As Natasha turned down her usual path of back alleys and quiet streets to get home, she felt the sensation of eyes on her back, a tightness in her shoulders as the feeling grew stronger. She slowed down her gait, the rain catching more on her umbrella than her head. Discreetly, she side eyed the reflective window of a mom-and-pop bakery.

The plexiglass was beaded with raindrops, a white streak from the street lamp, stale pastries on the inside. 

There was no one behind her. They must be at a further distance behind her. Or they were invisible. She really hoped they weren’t invisible. She wasn’t in the mood to deal with invisible right now. 

Natasha tucked a hand into the pocket of her peacoat, pushing through the false bottom to graze against something sharp and metal. She didn’t need it, but cutting down an assailant from a distance was easier than going through the dance of hand-to-hand combat. Steeling herself, she wandered casually down a side-alleyway. 

No footsteps sounded behind but she knew they were there. 

In one smooth move, she whipped around, throwing knife in hand, arm pulled back and ready to strike. The umbrella dropped to the ground, the plastic clattering against the concrete loudly, the sound echoing down the empty alley. 

The only thing behind her was a faded green dumpster, the stacks of black trash bags spilling over the sides and resting against the brick wall behind it. The rain soaked into her hair, the darkened strands plastering themselves to her forehead. She stood frozen, eyes darting around suspiciously. She lowered the knife and checked behind her but saw nothing. By her own eyes, she was the only one in the alley.

Tucking the knife back into her pocket, she blinked to shake the water off of her lashes, still looking for her would-be attacker. Nothing clinging to the walls. She stood on her tiptoes to peer between the crevices of the trash. Nothing hiding in the shadows. 

Still, Natasha could feel a gaze locked on her and she trusted her instincts too much to believe she was being paranoid. 

Natasha had started to back out of the alley, planning to return to Avengers’ Tower until the coast was clear, when she noticed the barest flicker of movement from near one of the bags on the ground. Grasping her weapon once again, she edged closer and stopped once she had a good view of her stalker.

Crouched beside a tumble of rotting food and unmentionables was a scrawny, soaked cat. It blinked up at her with big, amber-green eyes and let out the most pathetic meow she had ever heard. The fur plaster to its body revealed the sharp row of ribs, a thin neck barely able to support its head, spindly legs still standing strong. 

Oh, no, Natasha thought, dismayed as she extended a hand for the cat to sniff. This is much worse than getting jumped.

***************

 

And So Our Story Begins…

 

***************

Natasha took a slow sip of red wine and commented,”I don’t know why they waltzed right in the front door with guns blazing. They could have timed the guards’ shifts and-”

“Natasha,” Steve interrupted her, wrapping an arm around her middle and pulling her against his chest,” it’s just a movie.”

“Well, it’s awfully unrealistic,” she sniffed. 

The hero on screen began to point his gun in random directions and consequential shots following his unimpressive control over his weapon were all of the henchmen dropping dead with perfect red circles blooming over their hearts. Natasha inhaled the precious few drops of wine left in her glass as she tried not to make a snide comment that may or may not have alluded to a certain Hawkeye. 

The dumbass in distress that the hero had boned once before she was kidnapped appeared on screen. She was tied up and unharmed, her crisp white pantsuit undamaged with not a single strand of hair or smudge of eyeliner out of place. 

As Natasha stared forlornly at her empty glass, Steve’s fingertips brushed the bare skin of her stomach and rubbed his thumb soothingly over the rough knot of scars present there. She laid one of her own hands on top of his, contemplating a different kind of distraction from the cheesy action flick.

Natasha maneuvered herself around in Steve’s grip to set the empty glass on the wooden end table, making sure to brush her body tantalizingly against his; her spine pressed into his chest, hair swept to the side to reveal the smooth column of her throat, a breast casually glanced over his arm that laid on the armrest. Settling back into her original position, she heard Steve swallow nervously. 

The hero--artfully covered in blood and dirt, guns still in hand--and the damsel--still picture perfect--proceeded to walk slowly towards one another on a windy rooftop, oblivious to the helicopters filled with enemy combatants circling around them. The hero, in a moment of passionate stupidity, dropped his weapons and swept the damsel up in his arms for a mandatory cinematic kiss. 

Natasha found herself rooting for the international drug lord that for some reason wanted to kill everything the hero loved. 

She ran her fingernails through the light dusting of blond hairs on Steve’s forearm and then traced the goose bumps her touch elicited from him with the pads of her fingers.

“Nat,” Steve said in a strangled voice. “I know what you’re doing and it’s not going to work.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Natasha refuted innocently, glad that she was facing away from Steve so he couldn’t see the sly smile that spread across her face. “I’m just sitting here, quietly enjoying this lovely movie that Tony recommended.”

“You’re trying to work your way into my pants and it ain’t happening,” he responded, deliberately shifting his hips away from hers. “Not tonight.”

She rolled her eyes and turned her body to face him,” Steve, my leg is broken, not my vagina. So lay a honey cooler on me and let’s make whoopie, pip!”

His lips quirked up into an amused smile that he was trying to fight off,”That has to be one of the worst imitations of slang I’ve ever heard.”

“Don’t crust me,” she laughed, leaning up to press her lips close to his ear and whispered breathily, “Talk thirties to me, old man.”

The laughter he had been trying to hold back escaped and his grip on her tightened, pulling their bodies flush against one another once more. The only thing that hindered their embrace was the clunky cast on her leg. Undeterred, Natasha--still chuckling under her breath--began to press light, inviting kisses on Steve’s neck, slipping a hand between them to press against his breastbone and stroked tenderly where his heartbeat was present.

She nipped at his pulse before pulling back to look at her handiwork. His heart raced vibrantly beneath her palm, his breath a mixture of aroused pants and a few leftover bouts of laughter, and where their hips were pressed together she could feel the beginnings of his desire rising. 

Natasha pressed her forehead against Steve’s, their lips not quite touching, she murmured,” Shake a leg, Captain. We pitching woo tonight or am I getting all fired up over nothing?”

Steve leant forward, attempting to catch her lips with his but she pulled back slightly out of his reach. He gave a low, nervous chuckle, “Not tonight--your leg--”

“Is fine,” she insisted, emphasizing her point with a slow roll of her hips. Her leg twitched in protest at being maneuvered but she ignored it. “Can we quit with the booshwash?”

“Only if you stop using those phrases.”

She smiled and kissed the corner of his mouth, her hand dipping lower to thumb playfully over the band of his sweatpants,purring, “What phrases? You accusing me of being all wet and using your nostalgia to get you to blow your wig?”

“That’s not even what--Natasha, I know you think you’re being funny but it's not and your--”Steve sputtered indignantly,clearly trying to try to play the noble hero. It would have worked better if she couldn’t feel just how much her actions and words were affecting him; his large hands running up and down her back, his erection pressing into her thigh. She darted her tongue out to wet her lips, thrilled as his eyes--pupils blown wide--followed the miniscule movement.

Once again he leaned forward to kiss her and she turned her head so his lips skimmed her cheek. Natasha tilted her head and sank her teeth gently into the shell of his ear, her tongue just barely tracing the blushing flesh.

“You know,” she whispered conspiratorially, pausing in her ministrations,” with my leg in this cast we’d have to come up with some interesting positions. You might even get to be on top for once.” 

Steve’s glorious muscles coiled tightly and she relaxed her own in preparation as he pounced, readjusting their positions, and even in his haste he was mindful of her injury. Natasha found herself on her back with Steve braced on his forearms hovering above her. 

“Grifter,” he accused with a small smile before leaning down to press his lips to hers in a bruising kiss. She wound her arms around his neck, pulling him in closer, wishing she could wrap both her legs around his waist, but instead could only wrap her uninjured leg around one of his. His tongue swept along her bottom lip and she eagerly parted them, allowing him to deepen the kiss, getting lost in heat and wetness and playful teeth. Natasha tugged impatiently on the neckline of his shirt, raking her fingernails through the short hair on the back of his head.

They broke the kiss, both gasping for air, lips red, cheeks flushed. Natasha unwound her arms from around his neck, running her hands over his chest, reveling in the twitch and shift of his muscles. She paused at the hemline of his shirt,tugging it away from the skin, making sure to have her knuckles brush against his abs teasingly.

“Steve, take it off,” she commanded, voice haggard. “or I’ll rip it off.”

“So violent,” Steve complained while complying to her wishes, and she feasted her eyes on the beautifully sculpted man on top of her. He gripped the bottom of her oversized shirt,slowly drawing it up her body until the red cloth was bunched up above her peaked breasts.

Natasha arched her back suggestively, her hand branding a trail up her own stomach to cup the underside of her breast, nails softly marking the tender swells. She bit her swollen lip and asked,”You gonna keep staring all day, Captain, or are you--”

Her taunt vanished from her lips when Steve slid downwards and began to press hot, open mouthed kisses that followed the path her hand had made. He removed her hand from underneath her breast, moving it to the side and twining their fingers together. Steve seized an erect nipple gently between his teeth, his tongue rolling lazily across the sensitive tip. The action tore a low whimper from Natasha and she cursed her cast for preventing her from seeking relief for the desperate ache settling low in her abdomen. If she had had her full faculties, she would have already flipped Steve off of her and had him begging for relief.

Steve circled her unattended nipple with deft fingers, continuing downward with a whispering touch. Natasha untangled their interlocked fingers to run her nails through the short blonde hairs on the back of his head.

He slipped his wandering hand underneath the waistband of her pajama shorts. Steve pulled his mouth away from her breast to kiss her greedily as he pressed an unrelenting finger against her dripping and desperately pulsing pus--

‘MRRRRRRWEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWW!’ abruptly screeched from the direction of Natasha’s bedroom.

Steve reared back, one hand going towards his bare back as if trying to grasp his shield, the other clenched in a fist at his side, ready to swing. Natasha awkwardly wiggled around to rip the gun that was duct taped underneath her coffee table, clicking the safety off in record time. 

Another screech pierced the air, ‘MRRRRRWEEEOOOOOOOOOWWWW!’

“What the hell is that?” Steve asked, hopping over the back of the couch and making his way towards the noise, muscles coiled in expectation of a fight.

Natasha chided at him, relaxing a little as her hormone addled brain quickly processed the situation, “Language.”  
“Now really isn’t the time for that old joke.”

“It’s always the time for that joke,” she said, turning the safety back on and setting the gun on top of the glass tabletop with a clink. “It’s never going away, so you might as well get used to it.”

Steve sighed in exasperation, still wound up for an intruder, so she continued,”Standdown, Cap. It’s just Liho.”

“Your cat?” he asked incredulously, surprised as Liho had maintained an air of elusiveness when Steve would drop by her apartment and usually hid in the dark recesses of Natasha’s closet until he left. “Is she dying?”

Steve’s question hung in the air as he carefully opened the door, Liho’s screams somehow managing to reach an even more ear-splitting pitch than without the barrier.

“She probably just wants to go outside, the little brat,” Natasha guessed, unconcerned. “Open the window and let her fend for herself.”

She smiled as she heard him grumble at Liho, somehow holding up a one-sided conversation as he proceeded to do her cat’s bidding. Natasha discerned the faint beep of her security keypad followed by multiple clicks and jingles as he undid the bolts holding the window in place. While Steve was distracted, she made quick work, peeling off her pajama shorts and cotton underwear, wiggling them down her cast and throwing them across the room. Natasha rolled her oversized shirt back down, the fabric rubbing uncomfortably across her stimulated nipples. 

The apartment grew silent after Liho was let out and she heard the relocking of her locks and the re-entering of her keycode. 

Natasha relaxed and laid back as muscled arms draped over the side of the couch. She smiled up at him,”Ready to finish what you started?”

Steve reached down, tracing the skin just above where her cast was, drifting upwards in a soothing manner. “You mean, do I want to finish what you started?”

“Same difference.”

“Well, as fun,” he drawled, twisting the hem of her shirt between playful fingers,” as screwing on the couch sounds--”

He dropped her shirt and slid his hand up her thigh, still continuing to tease her.

“--wouldn’t it be better if we took this to the bedroom?”

Before she could answer, he pushed his thumb against her clit, circling in slow, deliberate strokes that licked fire down her spine. Natasha gave a little hum of pleasure, gazing up at Steve with hooded eyes.

“The bedroom sounds lovely.”

***************

Three Weeks Later...

***************

“I think my cat’s dying,” Natasha announced without preamble, setting a red plastic carrier on top of the metal exam table.

Dr. Ekwensi looked unimpressed with Natasha’s claim, slipping a pair of blue disposable gloves on her hands, asking,” “What symptoms has Liho been displaying this time to have you believe she’s dying?”

Liho mewed loudly in greeting when Dr. Ekwensi opened the crate and scratched her under her chin, Natasha folded her arms over her chest and answered,”She keeps vomiting up her food.”

“Hmmm. Has she shown any changes in appetite?” Dr. Ekwensi coaxed Liho out of her crate, the cat blinking up in disagreement at the bright fluorescent lights of the clinic.

“No.”

The Doctor proceeded to go through the usual check-up routine, pressing her stethoscope to Liho’s chest to listen to her heart and lungs, procuring samples to send back to the lab for testing. Her face was an impressive professional mask, but Natasha noticed the slight twitch of her lips that could either indicate a frown or a smile as she pressed her fingers against Liho’s abdomen. 

“Could you help me turn Liho onto her back, please?” Dr. Ekwensi asked, already pulling out a burgundy towel to protect themselves from the cat’s claws. Natasha trapped Liho’s front paws within the fabric, partially swaddling the feline as she struggled against her captors. She lifted Liho up, pressing the wriggling cat close to her chest before turning her onto her side and laying her on the table. 

While Liho struggled, the Doctor peeled the cloth off of her belly, giving it a quick look, pressing her gloved fingers into the soft fur there. Natasha tried to gauge what the Doctor could be looking for. Did Liho have cancer? A stomach virus? Worms? Had she ingested some sort of poison intended for Natasha that turned her insides into a bloody slush?

“Okay,” the Doctor pulled away.” I think I know what’s going on with little Liho here.”

“Is she dying?” Natasha asked, pushing her cat back into the carrier. She folded and set the towel on top of the crate, “Should I make plans for euth--”

She stumbled over the word, forcing herself to school her features into an expression of indifference. 

“--for putting her to sleep?”

“No,” Dr. Ekwensi gave her a brief smile. “No, Natasha, with the way you take care of her, Liho is probably going to outlive us all.”

Natasha breathed a soft sigh of relief, “So, she’s fine? I’m just overreacting?”

“Well, you were right in bringing her in,”the Doctor said, rolling the gloves off of her hands, efficiently passing the samples she’d collected from Liho to the nurse. “If my diagnosis is right--and we’ll know if it is in a few minutes--then there will have to be some decisions in regards to Liho’s health that will need to be made.”

“What decisions?” She bristled, turning on the defensive. “You just told me she was healthy. What’s wrong with her?”

Dr. Ekwensi held up her hand in a placating gesture, “Calm down. Liho is perfectly healthy. Now, I need to ask a few questions before the samples come back so we can sort this all out.”

“Fine. Fire away.”

“When was the last day of Liho’s last heat cycle?” She asked, flipping to a page on a clipboard, clicking her pen expectantly.

 

Natasha blinked in confusion and answered,”I don’t know. I don’t think she’s gone into heat since I got her. I just assumed she was fixed by a previous owner.”

“So did I,” the Doctor admitted. “She has a scar on her stomach almost identical to ones I’ve seen on spayed she-cats. I did not think to have further testing done or that there was any reason to prepare you for when it would occur.”

“Wait,” she held up a hand. “You’re not saying that Liho--my Liho--might be--”

“Pregnant,” Dr. Ekwensi confirmed with a sharp nod. “So, can you think of a time where Liho behaved differently? Meowed a lot? Became unusually affectionate?”

Natasha was at a loss for one of the few times in her life, floundering to connect the dots of what was happening and she repeated,”Pregnant?”

“Yes, pregnant,” Dr. Ekwensi reaffirmed firmly. “Now, to get a rough estimate of what stage the pregnancy’s at I need to know when her last heat ended. Can you remember?”

Natasha mulled it over in her head for a few seconds before realization slowly dawned on her,”About a month ago, my leg was in a cast from a skiing accident. I thought she was just acting out since I was home for a longer time than usual--my work usually takes me on frequent business trips.”

“That’s understandable,” the Doctor commented absently, obviously caring little about the technical details. “Did you let her out at any point during that time?”

“Yes, she was insistent one night so I had my friend let her out. She didn’t come back for about two days, but that’s typical for Liho.”

“Hmm, okay,” she jotted some more notes onto the clipboard. The vet assistant walked back in and handed the results to Dr. Ekwensi, not sparing a single glance at Natasha before walking back out. Unusual, she would have to do another routine background check on the staff here just to be safe.

Dr. Ekwensi gave the newly received information a quick once-over,”Well, she’s officially pregnant. Do you want to hear about how to proceed with the pregnancy and how to prepare for the kittens or would you like us to perform a pregnancy spay?”

“A pregnancy spay? You mean like an abortion?”Natasha asked as if wanting the Doctor to clarify, when in reality she just wanted more time to weigh the pros and cons of both scenarios.

Pros of Keeping Kittens:  
Kittens are adorable.  
She would be a grandmother, technically.  
Liho would make a good mother.  
She could sic the kittens on people (i.e. Tony, Clint, etc.)  
Cons of Keeping Kittens  
Pregnancy is awful and time consuming no matter the species.  
Kittens are babies and babies require lots of time and training.  
She would have to find homes for each kitten Liho would pop out.  
Liho would be even more unbearably demanding while pregnant.  
She would have to take time off to tend to the kittens.  
The cats might gang up on her.  
Pros of Aborting Kittens  
Life would continue on as normal.  
Cons of Aborting Kittens  
Liho would probably be unbearably sad.  
No kittens.

”....of course, it may be easier for you to decide if you knew how many kittens Liho would be carrying,” Dr. Ekwensi’s voice still droned on, Natasha still half-heartedly listening. “I highly recommend performing an ultrasound in order to get the most accurate estimation.”

“That sounds good, let’s do that,” she said quickly, already planning how to kitten-proof her apartment and how to best announce the arriving bundles of joy.

A few tense minutes later, Natasha found herself staring at a pulsing grey screen where indiscernible blobs floated about. Liho was grumbling in drugged-out protest, stretched out on the medical table, a rectangle of pink skin shining where they had shaved the black fur from a section of her belly.

She tilted her head slightly to the side, feeling the way she often did in abstract art exhibits; lost and trying to find meaning where she was sure there was none.

“That’s a kitten moving right there,” a nurse pointed out, smiling brightly.

Natasha, seeing nothing of the sort, commented with a false smile,”It’s so tiny!”

“Hmm,” Dr. Ekwensi squinted at the screen, pressing her fingers against Liho’s stomach. Natasha could see that beyond her professionalist mask, the Doctor was showing signs of concern and disbelief in the pull of her mouth and the set of her shoulders.

“Is something wrong?” She inquired, keeping her focus on the grey screen as if fascinated by the apparent lifeforms that were supposedly displayed on there. Out of the corner of her eye and through a faint reflection on a framed picture of a bulldog that hung on the beige wall, she observed a partial spectrum of the Doctor’s reactions. From what she gathered, the good Doctor was preparing to deliver some form of bad news and wasn’t looking forward to having to do it. 

“Well, to be quite frank, this is rather abnormal,” she admitted. “If I’m seeing things right--and I could be wrong-- then Liho is expecting an unusually large litter of kittens.”

“Define large, Doctor.”

“About twelve or thirteen. Fifteen if we want to round up.”

Natasha glanced down at Liho, shaking her head in mock disappointment,” You slut.”

Liho twitched her tail, eyes a little glassy, but otherwise looking rather pleased with herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are encouraged and kudos are welcomed! Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

***************

A Day Later…

In Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn...

***************

Natasha strolled into the messy apartment, rooted around in the sparse icebox for a beer, and stole a slice of supreme pizza from its box on the counter while hoping it hadn't been sitting there for a few days. She had more important things to deal with and food poisoning would be a terrible inconvenience.

Perched on a barstool, she looked over at the two haggard Hawkeyes, sore and bruised with coffee cups gripped like lifelines in their hands, “Would you like a kitten or two? Or three?”

Kate wrinkled her nose, wincing a fraction when it smarted against the movement,”We already have a dog.”

As if to back up his mistress’s claim, Lucky gave a little woof from where he laid at Clint’s feet, gazing longingly with his one eye at the pizza slice Natasha was tearing apart. She pulled off a piece of crust, making sure to include a little of everything on the bread before tossing it in his direction.

When Clint didn’t answer, she kicked a foot in his direction to get his attention and signed the question. He grunted and shook his head, pointing at Lucky.

“Lucky likes cats,” she said and gestured simultaneously. “He adores Liho!”

“Lucky likes everyone,” Kate muttered, taking a long swig of coffee, her face twisting in a grimace. Clint looked like the argument was starting to sway him,. His counterpart, seeing how he was being tempted, signed a quick “No” in his direction.

Clint set his empty cup down and inquired with curt hand movements, “Why are you asking about kittens?”

“Liho’s pregnant,” Natasha answered around a mouthful of pizza. She set the torn up slice down and answered more comprehendingly with her hands.

“Really?” Kate asked in disbelief, eyes staring off into the distance and only half-invested in the conversation. 

“I told you not to let her run loose,” Clint fussed, looking a little smug. “But no one ever listens to Hawkguy.”

“Usually for good reasons,” Natasha shot back, wondering what had occurred to cause both Hawkeyes to behave like something had crawled up their asses and died. At least Lucky was happy to see her; she rubbed the dog’s big golden head where it now rested on her thigh, rewarding him for not being a dick today.

Natasha grabbed another slice of pizza. Kate wandered off, her bow slung on her back and Lucky trailing after her with his tail wagging. Clint continued to drink his coffee, having moved on from a cup to the actual pot while looking like he’d rather be drinking something much stronger.

“Is there a reason why you're being pissy today or is it just your typical self-destructive cycle?” Natasha questioned.

“Lil’ bit of both this time,” is what he said, unusually cryptic, but he attempted to ward off her concern. “I’ll tell you about it once we’ve got it sorted out.”

“I’m holding you to that,”she told him. “But if you want to talk about it or round up a few bad guys to punch it out with, I’ll be there.”

“Sap.”

“Asshole.”

They sat in companionable silence and stillness for a few minutes, the only sounds were of them eating and drinking with the distant thuds from Kate’s target practice in the background, until she broke it with, “So, about the kittens--”

He shook his head, “No, Nat. I can barely remember to take care of myself and Lucky. Adding kittens to that would only end in disaster. I’d probably end up putting them in my quiver and toting them around on missions by accident.”

A particularly loud thwack was heard from the target room followed by a litany of barks resonating from Lucky. 

“Yeah. Although, you have to admit, a kitten arrow would be cute,” Natasha gave a dark laugh. “Or disturbing, depending on how you look at it.”

Clint gave out a long suffering sigh, lazily signing, “Need more coffee.”

While he set another pot brewing, Natasha pulled out her cell phone, entering in the codes quickly to look over the security footage streaming live from her apartment. Natasha flicked through the screens until she found where Liho was lurking, surprisingly not in her closet for once, but on top of her kitchen counter, sniffing around hopefully for scraps. Natasha took a vicious bite of her pizza slice.

“Already turning into a helicopter grandma?” Clint teased out loud and she glanced up to see him adjusting his purple hearing aids.

“I prefer Babushka,” she mumbled around her food. “And I am not going to helicopter them. I just want to make sure Liho and the kittens are fine.”

“Uh-huh.”

“She’s having thirteen.”

“Thirteen kittens?”

“Yep, thirteen kittens is the closest estimate. It seems like a good, unlucky number for her to have. At most fifteen.”

“Damn,” he drawled out, staring longingly at each fresh drop of coffee, possibly considering taking the pot away and just drinking the scalding liquid straight from the source. “What are you gonna do with thirteen kittens?”

“Find homes for them,” Natasha said. “Hopefully as swiftly as possible.”

“Damn,” he repeated with a shake of his head. “You got any idea how hard that’s gonna be, Nat?”

She shrugged,” I’ve negotiated with terrorist cells, megalomaniacs, and Tony Stark. I think I’m qualified enough to convince a few people to take in some kittens.”

Clint gave her a pitying look,”And people say I’m an idiot.”

***************

8:00 P.M….

Avengers Tower...

***************

“What kinda jackass stages an invasion during dinner?” Spider-Woman grumbled, as she rooted into one of the hefty take-out bags to find her meal. 

Captain Marvel, her girlfriend, shrugged, “The real question is what kinda jackass stages an invasion that consists of mutated sloths? Sloths! They weren’t even mutated to do anything cool or even to move faster. They were just the size of elephants and greener than normal sloths.”

Spider-Man pulled his mask off to reveal a smiling Peter Parker, “You have to admit, it was one of the easiest we’ve ever had to stop.”

Natasha, from where she sat spinning in a chair in the command center of the Avengers Tower, silently agreed with Peter’s sentiment. It had been one of the easiest invasions they had ever faced. Almost too easy, in her opinion. She would have to look into why this ridiculous distraction had occurred and if it was being utilized as a cover-up for a nefarious scheme.

Sadly (not really), she had not been in the streets for the giant green sloth fiasco since despite her leg having been healed several weeks back by the fabulous Dr.Cho, she still wasn’t cleared for active duty yet. Truthfully, Natasha wasn’t entirely sure what she would have done when faced with a giant green sloth, but from the command center she was able to redirect traffic, locate the neon beasts, call qualified scientists to ensure they weren’t poisonous or radioactive, and find a lenient zoo that was willing to keep them until other arrangements could be made.

The joys and burdens of being a superhero. Tedious work, typically it was something Darcy did but the other woman was off-world with Jane and Thor on some intergalactic quest. She would owe her when she got back and Natasha intended on cashing in on that debt.

“Knock, knock,” the most irritating voice on the planet came from the door. Natasha could practically hear the smirk that was no doubt spread across his face. “How’s the invigorating work of Avengers-secretary going for you? Are you suddenly feeling any urges to gossip excessively? Wear revealing blouses? Make me some coffee? Lovingly display pictures of your many cats around the office?”

“I’m definitely feeling the urge to stab you with every single pen on this desk and pour hot coffee into your wounds,” she said fake cheerfully, spinning the chair around to face him with a wide smile plastered on her face. “Now, how else may I help you, Mr. Stark?”

Tony pressed a hand over his heart, as if he were truly offended and gasped, “Ms. Rushman, the mouth on you! It’s this kind of behavior that got you fired from Stark Industries in the first place.”

“I was never fired,” Natasha cut in. “I quit.”

She ‘quit’ because she was only working there to spy on him for Fury, but the details here mattered very little to both of them at this moment. 

“You were fired,” he continued, insistently. “And now I’m afraid you’ll have to be fired again.”

“Really? I’d like to see how you people manage without me.”

“Because as wonderful as a secretary you’ve been today, you’re needed across the world yesterday to help Sam with liaison's in Wakanda. Something to do with a giant ape tearing up the new UN building on opening day?”Tony shrugged flippantly and she gave him a disapproving look as he downed what was left of whatever alcohol was in his glass tumbler. “So, you’re fired from secretary duty. Go back to what you’re good at. Be an Avenger.”

“Giant ape...?” Natasha glared at him. “Instead of being a smartass, lead with what’s important. I could’ve been in Wakanda by now.”

“While I make preparations for the trip, who’s going to deal with this?” She gestured back at the control room as she began on her way to the flight deck, mentally making a list of everything that needed to be accomplished in Wakanda and on the homefront. 

“I’ll pull Parker, the kid needs practice doing things other than swinging from a web and punching things,” Tony answered, keeping in step next to her, much to her ire.

“No,” she shook her head. “He’s too inexperienced and too controversial to work with police and newspeople at the moment. Call Janet and see if she’s available to man the controls and handle the reporters.”

“When did I become your secretary? Why don’t you call Janet?” He whined. 

“Because, like you said earlier, I needed to be in Wakanda yesterday,” she snapped, wondering why every hero she’d spoken to today was in such pissy moods. Maybe they all needed to go on a vacation. Or get a cat. If the latter would work she certainly had a way to fix all their problems. Figuratively, that is. Cats, sadly, cannot solve everything. 

Speaking of cats…

“Hey, Tony, do you want a cat?” Natasha asked as they stopped at the flight deck’s entrance, pressing her thumb against the DNA scanner, unphased at the jab of the needle that tested her blood, lifting her finger afterwards to her mouth to suck off the drop of blood. 

When she spared a glance at Tony, he looked confused and kept giving desperately amused looks around himself as if expecting her statement to be part of some sort of prank.

She proceeded to go through the many other security protocols, waiting for him to realize she wasn’t joking. 

“Is that a euphemism for a new drug or is that a come on?” Tony followed up his question with a non-serious lewd eye roll that traced her curves from head to foot. “Cause if it’s the latter then yes, I want a cat. I want all the cats you’re offering.”

“Tony, we both know you would would rather stick your dick in a cactus than sleep with me,” Natasha sighed in exasperation, wondering if asking him while he was almost two sheets to the wind was a bit unfair. Besides, she had more time sensitive things that needed to be done now, but she liked to pride herself on being able to multitask.

While she grabbed her prepacked duffel bag from the locker room, triple-checking to make sure all of her passports, firearms, neutralizers, communicators, and widow’s bites were all there, she continued, “I was asking because Liho’s pregnant and I need to find homes for all the kittens. Preferably before they’re born. Has Sam sent word on a rendezvous point to come up with a strategy or am I just supposed to look for a giant gorilla on top of a building and shoot at it?”

“They have him in custody already--apparently T’Challa’s dealt with him before. Now they just need you to bust some knuckles and find out who else is involved in the terrorist attack,” he answered. “Since when do you have a cat? I was just joking earlier, but are you really turning into a crazy cat lady, Nat? Is my next Christmas card from you going to feature you surrounded by a bunch of them in ugly sweaters?”

“Tony,” Natasha warned. “I have a bag full of weaponry and the more you speak the more I’m inclined to use it. Just answer my question about the cat; do you want one or not?”

“Or not, preferably,” Tony waved her off. “What the hell would I do with a damn cat?”

“Build it its own Iron Cat suit and take it on missions,” she guessed with a shrug, making her way up one of the quinjet’s ramps. 

As she turned to shut the ramp, Natasha noticed a thoughtful look pass over Tony’s face, his eyebrows furrowed. It had been a long shot, but maybe she had found a home for at least one of the kittens, even though now she’d have to explain to Tony when she got back why giving a cat repulsors would be a bad idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are encouraged and kudos are welcomed! Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

***************

Five Days Later…

PetCo…

9:00 P.M….

***************

“Why is there nothing here for pregnant cats?” Natasha grumbled, leaning heavily against her shopping basket. Her bruised ribs protested against every minute movement she made.

Bucky shrugged, adjusting his arms to more comfortably hold the puppy that he had picked up a few minutes back. The manager was too scared to tell him to put it back and Natasha could see that holding the pup had a soothing effect on him, so she kept her mouth shut. The mental health doctors, if they heard about this, would probably berate her for enabling him but she honestly didn’t care at this point. In her opinion, if Bucky wanted to hold a damn puppy he should be allowed to hold a goddamn puppy. 

When she was unbrainwashing herself, she sort of wished more people had let her hold small, defenseless creatures just to prove she could do something with her hands other than kill or maim or cut or torture or--

“Um,” a teenage girl who--judging from her outfit--worked there walked hesitantly up towards them and for a second Natasha was irritated, thinking that she must have recognized the two from television. “I-is there anything I can help you with, ma’am?”

Natasha pressed her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose--ignoring the small voice in her head sounding suspiciously like Clint that was singing off-key ‘I said I wear my sunglasses at night I wear my sunglasses at night’--and pursed her lips as she asked, “Where are the products for pregnant cats?”

“For queens?”the girl shuffled nervously, twisting her hair in her hands, clearly intimidated by Natasha’s impression of a ‘rich bitch’ or perhaps she did know who Natasha and Bucky were and was petrified by that alone, “Well, people don’t really buy things for pregnant cats. We have some beds and bed liners, but cats generally do what they want. There are some heat pads available for when the kittens are born. And, um, canned kitten food is good to feed queens and pregnancy supplements are available to prevent medical problems.”

“Hmmm,” behind her glasses, Natasha closed her eyes to mull over the thoughts in her head. These were all things that Dr. Ekwensi had written on the list she had given her, but Natasha had been hoping to find more detailed sections in the pet store dedicated to pregnant cats and birthing. Sadly, that wasn’t the case. They had numerous supplies for dogs but next to nothing for cats.

“What about for puppies?” Bucky asked abruptly. 

“Supplies for puppies? Everything you need should be on aisle four.”

As Bucky wandered away, Natasha wondered if she should call Steve and let him know that a new addition was being added to his apartment. Instead of calling him, she decided to let it be a surprise. 

“Um, maybe if I knew how far along your cat is I could give better recommendations?”

“Four or five weeks,”she estimated.

The girl wrinkled her nose, “No, offense, ma’am, but isn’t it a bit early to be shopping for this stuff?”

“I have a very,” Natasha’s bottom lip twitched as her bruised ribs flared up in pain to an agonizing degree,”unpredictable schedule so this is my only sure time that I can get this out of the way.”

“Oh,” was all the girl said. 

As they both stood there in awkward silence, it occurred to Natasha that maybe going shopping after travelling internationally and running on less than three hours of sleep in the past seventy-two hours might not have been the smartest idea she has ever had. Factoring in the fact that she felt like she’d been hit by a truck, this whole spontaneous excursion suddenly seemed very stupid.

“Could you show me where the bed stuff you mentioned earlier can be found?” Natasha felt that since she was already here so she might as well just get it all over with even though all she really wanted to do was lay down on the linoleum floor and sleep for the next three centuries.

While the girl--her red badge spelled the name Jacqueline--scanned her items at the checkout, Natasha took out her phone to check the security feed from her apartment. She had forbidden herself from doing so while on mission as it was an unnecessary distraction. She fast forwarded through the adventures of Liho and Steve, which mostly consisted of Steve setting food and water down while Liho hid in various locations until he left.

“Um, m-ma’am, not to be offensive or anything, but can your friend handle caring for multiple pets?”

Natasha had been aware of Bucky’s presence a few feet behind her--out of earshot for a normal human--for the past thirty seconds but had stoically ignored him knowing that the second she did she would have to confront whatever he was doing. 

She tucked her phone into her purse, payed for her supplies with a swipe of one of Tony’s credit cards, and then turned with a long sigh. 

Bucky was no longer cradling the puppy in his arms, instead he had placed the lazy thing in a shopping cart. 

Along with its three siblings and a giant pack of puppy chow and thirty chew toys.

Without her asking, he explained, reaching down to stroke the first puppy’s floppy ears, “The shrink Steve makes me go to said that getting a therapy dog might help with the flashbacks.”

Natasha decided not to tell him that the ‘therapy dog’ his therapist had recommended would probably have been trained to deal with extreme cases of PTSD and that these puppies were not. Instead, she politely inquired,” One dog I can understand, but why the four pack?”

“I wasn’t going to separate them.”

Sympathetically, she nodded,” Understandable. Scan the things, Tony’ll pay for it. How much are the puppies?”

“Um,” Jaqueline cut in. “They’re part of this program where we host rescues from a local animal shelter. I think it's about the cost of their shots and spaying/neutering to get them.” 

“I have money,” Bucky muttered, sounding slightly angry. “I can afford to pay for them and all this stuff.”

Instantly, Natasha felt like an asshole. Not treating Bucky like a fully functioning adult was not only rude but also detrimental to his mental health. She should know this. She’s been where he is and hated when someone behaved like her handler and treated her like a living doll.

Since apologizing would probably make it worse, she took a step back and allowed Bucky to pay for his purchases himself. He fumbled with the debit card, looking a little dubious as the purchase went through, still not believing that a flimsy piece of plastic could be used to pay for things.

Later that night, Bucky was sprawled out on her living room floor, his new puppies tumbling and rolling all over him. Natasha was sitting down with Liho in her lap, scrolling through Netflix trying to find a movie that wouldn’t trigger a violent reaction from Bucky. 

“Do you wanna watch 10 Things I Hate About You or The Aristocats?”

“I have no idea what either of those are about,” he said, trying to coax the puppies to play away from his metal arm. The furballs used their pinprick teeth to tug on the long sleeve and glove that covered the appendage, finding his distractions to be part of their game.

“One is a romantic comedy and the other is about rich cats,” she explained, scratching under Liho’s chin as the cat purred, delighted that Natasha was home to be her human-slave once again. “I’ve seen them both and they’re not half bad.”

“Pick whichever one you wanna watch.”

Natasha decided on The Aristocats. 

During the “Thomas O’Malley Cat” number, one of the puppies found its way to stand by the foot of the sofa, whimpering and lifting itself onto its hind legs, begging to be picked up by Natasha. Liho blinked down at the puppy and hissed.

“Liho,” Natasha fussed, reaching down to pick up the squirming puppy by the nape of its neck. “Be nice to the baby.”

Liho growled low in her throat when the puppy eagerly tried to sniff all over her and Natasha, she added chastising,” Think of it as practice for when you have thirteen or more mini-me’s running all over you and driving you slowly to insanity.”

Her cat glared at the puppy. The puppy’s bright pink tongue darted out to lick Liho on the nose. Liho recoiled in disgust, her face a pure picture of disgruntlement. She whacked the puppy across the face in retaliation. Before Natasha could snap at the cat, she hopped off the couch in a huff and ran off. 

The puppy crawled into the space Liho had previously occupied, already having forgotten the beat down the cat had inflicted upon her. 

“Your cat is an asshole,” Bucky observed from where he still lay on the floor, the three other puppies sleeping by his side in the curve where his metal arm met his shoulder. 

“Yeah,” Natasha sighed in agreement. She rubbed the puppy’s warm belly and tilted its face to check and see if Liho had used her claws on the poor creature. “Have you come up with names for them or are we just going to call them Puppy 1, Puppy 2, and so on for the rest of their lives?”

“I haven’t really thought of any,” he said, his gaze fixed firmly on her television, where the cats on screen were learning how to waddle like geese. His arm encircled the pups protectively, pressing them more firmly against his side. “What do you think I should name ‘em?”

“Saving up all the names in my repertoire for another set of hairballs,” Natasha answered carefully.

She twisted the puppy in her lap onto its back to scratch at its belly, trying to find the spot that would make its leg do that cute twitchy thumpy thing that dogs do. Hopefully, Bucky wouldn't take that long to name a few puppies. 

Well. Until he got around to giving them names, she was going to call the little lady in her lap ‘Duchess’, even if it would only be in her head.

***************

Two Weeks Later…

The Statue of Liberty...

***************

“Ms. Natasha, can you teach me how to fight?” Kit Renner gazed up at Natasha with big, blue pleading eyes.

“No,” was her automatic response. 

“Carol is teaching me how to be a superhero,” the little girl explained, her bottom lip stuck out in a pout. “And to be a superhero I have to do the right thing, which is what she’s teaching me, but I also need to know how to fight and you’re an awesome fighter--not as awesome as the Captain--but you’re still really cool and you don't have powers like me so you can--”

While Kit paused to take a much needed breath, Natasha tried to be patient with the girl, “It's good that Carol is teaching you how to be a good person--”

“Superhero,” Kit quickly corrected.

“--but I don’t think you’re old enough for me to be teaching you how to fight.”

“Why? Tons of kids in my grade take Taekwondo and this won’t be that different and you’re really cool and could show me how to fight like you and then I can be a superhero like Captain Marvel,” she exclaimed, hands balled into fists at her sides, bouncing on the tips of her feet. Natasha had a feeling that the child in front of her was always on the cusp of attempting to take flight and was always flying, even if only in her imagination.

“Have you told the Captain about this plan of yours?” She asked, already knowing the answer. She had been warned about the infamous Lieutenant Trouble beforehand.

“Yes.”

“And what did she say?”

Kit squirmed under the scrutiny of Natasha’s gaze, and she bit her lip before answering in a mumble, “She said to wait til’ I was older.”

“Well, I can’t go against your commander’s orders,” Natasha said with a straight face.

“But I heard from Ms. Jess that you--”

“Alright! Lunch is served!” Carol announced, floating into the room while balancing three plates that held haphazardly thrown together sandwiches. She set them down on the dining table, trying not to look too nervously at the two of them and failing.

Natasha wondered what ‘Ms. Jess’ must have said about her to have Carol worried. If she had to guess, it was probably about how young she had been when the Red Room had started training her. 

She wouldn’t want to talk about that with a child present either. Although why Jessica had brought it up around the Lieutenant in the first place would be an interesting investigation for a later date. 

Natasha took a bite of her sandwich and choked down possibly the driest piece of food she had consumed since that time she was held captive in Guadalajara. Apparently, rushing to stop an awkward conversation did not give one enough time to squeeze ketchup on bread. 

Now, Natasha had a much bigger reason for being in Captain Marvel’s home than sandwiches and childish conversations. Her ulterior motive was not innocent and it was a bit underhanded, considering she was going to manipulate a child into helping her.

“Hey, Carol, where’s Chewie?” She asked after swallowing the sandpapery bread and Swiss cheese.

Before Carol could answer, Kit burst out, “Chewie’s in space with her babies!”

“Oh? Chewie had kittens? How many?” Natasha smiled indulgently, already knowing the answers to all of her questions.

“A hundred and seventeen,” Carol answered, swallowing her own piece of sandwich and grimacing. Natasha tried not to feel a little better knowing the other woman had to endure this with her.

“A hundred and seventeen?” She gasped. “And I thought Liho having fifteen was a lot.”

“You have a cat?” Kit asked, her eyes as wide as saucers. “Is it an alien like Chewie? Does it have superpowers or is it a spy like you?”

Liho’s only superpower was being extremely fertile.

“No, I don’t think Liho is an alien,”--actually, Natasha knew Liho wasn’t an alien since she had had her cat tested shortly after she heard of the debacle with Carol and Chewie--,“and she isn’t a spy. She is just a normal cat.”

Kit looked a little disappointed at hearing that. Carol looked relieved, apparently Flerken’d-out for the foreseeable future, which worked in Natasha’s favor immensely. 

“It must be lonely without Chewie around,” she observed. “You had her for years, it must be a bit of a shock to come home to an empty house after work.”

“Eh, not really,” Carol said. “Well, a little. It’s been an adjustment since I’m used to her leaping in my lap every time I sit down. But at least now I don’t have to buy cat food, worry about feeding times, or try to find someone willing to watch her while I’m away.”

Natasha felt a small bite of guilt for trying to convince someone who had just gotten rid of a beloved pet into getting a new one. She also felt guilt for continuing with her mission knowing Carol was probably much less stressed now that she didn’t have to worry about a pet every time she went on a mission.

She had at least thirteen kittens to find homes for. Natasha felt she was allowed to use whatever arsenal she could to find those homes. 

“What about you, Kit? Do you miss having a cat running around here?” She asked casually, meeting Carol’s gaze with a quirked eyebrow. 

Realization dawned on the other Avenger’s face, finally understanding what Natasha was doing. Sloppy, she could probably have found an easier, more subliminal way to get Carol on her side, but she found being slightly more direct in her approach may win points in her favor. Or backfire horribly.

Kit shrugged,” I guess. We used to eat pizza together and she would share my milk so that we could both get strong bones.”

You weren’t supposed to give cats milk, but Natasha decided not to point that out to the child at this very moment, “How would you feel if Carol got a new kitten?”

“Nat--” Carol started to warn her with narrowed eyes.

“A kitten?!” Kit squealed. “That would be great! I love kittens! It could be my sidekick!”

“Really? How would you feel about Carol getting two new kittens?”

Kit’s smile was a thousand watts of pure undiluted joy as she leaped up and turned to her mentor, “Are you really getting two kittens?!”

Carol glared at Natasha, her hands furiously tearing the crust off of her sandwich apart. Probably the only thing keeping her from firing a photon blast at Natasha’s face. Natasha was seventy-five percent sure that she could dodge if it came to that. 

“I wasn’t planning on it,” she said, her teeth a little gritted. “I’ll have to talk to Jess when she gets back from Wakanda.”

“I already called her,” Natasha said with a smile, happy that she had covered that particular base before coming here. “She thought it would be a good idea.”

“She did?” Carol questioned, her voice belying disbelief. 

“Yes.” Actually, Jess had been willing to agree to anything by the time Natasha had called her since she had been in the middle of containing Man-Ape when she had called and was not in the mood to talk. But Carol didn’t need to know that right now.

Carol still looked skeptical. Kit was practically floating where she stood, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“You can talk to Jess first before you decide,” Natasha mollified, but couldn’t resist twisting her words around,” but I really think Kit would love helping take care of three kittens.”

“Two kittens,” Carol corrected before she could stop herself, a look of horror washing over her face as she realized that she had given into Natasha’s scheme.

Kit cheered, already babbling about what superhero names the kittens should have.

Natasha smiled in triumph as she casually threw what was left of her sandwich away.

Two kittens down. A hell of a lot more to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are encouraged and kudos are welcomed! Thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

***************

Three Days Later…

Avenger’s Tower…

***************

“Tony,” Steve already felt like he was going to regret asking these questions. “Why are there videos of cats everywhere? And why are you covered in scratch marks?”

There were cats plastered on every holographic screen and monitor available in Tony’s workshop. A Persian cat was batting at a ball of yarn in one. A yellow tabby was in an inescapable loop of being whirled around by the cord of a ceiling fan. A calico was stalking and chasing mice and lizards. Several munchkin kittens waddled furiously around, trying to catch the red dot of a pen light. There was even a video of Liho whacking at a bird toy that was colored in Iron Man’s red and gold palette.

Steve was certain that Natasha had never bought Liho anything that was Avenger’s affiliated. He was also almost certain that--judging by the chrome cabinets and the white tiled floor in the background of the video--Liho was in Tony’s kitchen at the Tower in the video. 

“Research, my star spangled friend, for my new project,” Tony answered with a large smile, fiddling with the mechanisms of a lump of a machine that rested on his worktable. 

“And the scratches?” He pushed, gesturing to the deep but thin gashes that decorated the other man’s body, parts of his shirt and jeans ripped as well.

“Testing. There are still a few bugs in the programming I have to work out.”

“Uh-huh,” Steve nodded and went over to the holotable, turning it on to see the latest schematics of whatever Tony was working on.

A white cat appeared, transparent enough to see both the skeletal and muscular structures. Curiously, Steve swiped the air with his hand to see the next slide of the holo-picture.

The white cat separated from its muscles and skeletons, the image turning into a triplicate; the image showing a whole white cat, another of the red muscles that made up its frame, and the last one of the rather morbid skeleton. 

He swiped his hand again.

All three images began a walk cycle, notes typed by J.A.R.V.I.S showing up in blue text boxes with white font. 

He continued to swipe his hand in the air, still feeling a little stupid with this technology, and went through several different cycles of the three images performing typical actions real cats would do; running, stalking, hissing, sleeping, eating, clawing, and biting. 

On the next image, all three images froze mid movement and slowly the cat reformed, fake bone and flesh and skin transforming into metalwork and wires. Blinking in white font above the shifting ideas for robot cats were the words: Iron Cat Phase I.

Steve let out a long, suffering sigh, “Why, Tony? Why?”

Tony shrugged, “I’m a genius with lots of money and lots of free time. Plus, I’ve been thinking for awhile that I could use a sidekick.”

“Then call Doreen, she’d be thrilled to be your sidekick. Wasn’t that her birthday wish a few months ago?” Steve shook his head, trying to focus his thoughts, taking a deep breath in as he continued, “Tony, you can’t build a robot cat.”

“Doreen is busy studying for the ACT or whatever standardized test high schoolers are having shoved down their throats these days,” Tony explained. “And a robo-cat would be cool to have and very useful on missions.”

He clicked a button behind a yellow orb in his hand and a beam of blue light snapped out of it, burning the floor below him. Tony looked back up, his smile blinding, “Laser eyes, Steve. Laser eyes on a cat! Can you imagine? Well, of course you can. I just showed it to you and it is awesome! I am a genius!”

Steve looked at Tony’s glowingly happy face, to the burnt floor, then to the Iron Cat Phase I hologram, and then back to Tony’s face which was starting to look more and more mad scientist-like by the minute. He could imagine a hundred thousand different ways this could end badly. Why couldn’t he have just minded his own business for once? If he hadn’t stopped in to check on Tony, he wouldn’t have been sucked up into this madness. Instead, he would have remained happily oblivious to this mental breakdown of Tony’s and would probably have been back at his apartment merrily cooking supper to the calming sound of blues music.

Steve started, “Tony, I don’t know what gave you this idea, but--”

“Natasha.”

“What?” Steve looked behind him to see if the spy had snuck into the room while he was distracted. He turned back to Tony, confused, “What about Natasha?”

“Natasha gave me the idea,” Tony said, inspecting one of the cuts on his arm curiously. “Is this green stuff supposed to be oozing from there?”

“No, and when did Natasha suggest that you build an Iron Cat? Why did Natasha suggest that you build an Iron Cat?” Steve felt that the more he asked question, the less he understood anything. Tony’s workshop had a habit of making him feel this way. He really needed to stop coming in here. It was probably detrimental to his mental health. And, if what was going on was any indication, being locked in the workshop for days on end had apparently decimated Tony’s mental health. 

Tony waved his hand in the air, “J.A.R.V.I.S., show the good Captain playback from the lovely conversation Nat and I had the night she went to Wakanda to help with their monkey infestation.”

A holographic screen appeared in the air in front of Steve and security footage started to play from several different angles of the flight deck, the audio enhanced so he could hear both Tony and Natasha’s voices clearly. 

“Tony, I have a bag full of weaponry and the more you speak the more I’m inclined to use it. Just answer my question about the cat; do you want one or not?” Natasha’s voice was irritated as she strode purposefully towards the quinjet, her red hair glowing like fire against the metallic backdrop.

“Or not, preferably,” Tony answered joyfully, swaying slightly on his feet, obvious even through the screen that he was tipsy. “What the hell would I do with a damn cat?”

“Build it its own Iron Cat suit and take it on missions,” Natasha suggested and then the screen blipped out of existence. 

“She was being sarcastic.”

“Probably, but the idea stuck in my head.”

“You were drunk.”

“So what if I was? I’m a grown man, Capsicle, and I can knock back a few glasses--”

“It looks like you knocked back a few bottles,” Steve pointed out. “Not glasses.”

“--if I damn well want to,” Tony continued, ignoring Steve petulantly. 

Steve glared obstinately at him and ordered, “You have to scrap this project. I mean, you have created some bad for everyone involved inventions, but this one seems like it's been designed specifically to kill you.”

In order to further emphasize his point, he poked a harsh finger into one of the gashes on Tony’s shoulder, “It’s a good thing you didn’t give it repulsors or have the laser eyes already in. Then it really would have killed you.”

Tony flinched away and slapped at the hand that had aggravated his wound. He glared up at Steve petulantly, “I could aim this laser at you. I really, really could.”

“Only because you know I’m right.”

“I really, really want to, too,” he emphasized his point by shooting a laser beam at Steve’s feet. Steve didn’t even flinch away. He knew Tony wouldn’t actually shoot him.

Tony pointed the laser again.

Probably. 

***************

Two Days Later…

In Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn...

***************

“Where’s Kate?” Natasha asked aloud and signed, unsure if Clint was having a silent day or not. “And where’s Lucky?”

“She’s at the doctor and Lucky is,” Clint paused and glanced around, tapping a finger nervously on the shaft of the arrow loosely held in his hand. “Actually, I don’t know where Lucky is. He might be with one of my neighbors.”

“He might be?” She echoed with a low chuckle. “Is that how your thinking went in Guadalajara? No wonder it took them two weeks to find me.”

Clint notched his arrow and lined up his shot, taking longer than was necessary to focus on his target. Her eyes trailed over his arms, taut and ready to let the arrow fly. There was an added tension in his shoulders, in the lines of his brow, and in the pinch of his mouth. Natasha was tempted to ask him what was bothering him, but decided against it. If he wanted her help, he would ask her for it.

Probably.

Clint shot the arrow. It hit the target dead center, as per usual.

Natasha rooted through the pile of projectile weapons he had stashed in a corner of the practice room, all of which weren’t arrows and were therefore treated like second class citizens. She found a small set of shuriken and tested the sharpness of the blades with the tips of her fingers. Not as sharp as she would like, but they would stick well enough.

She stood next to Clint and reared back a hand loosely holding a shuriken just as he notched two arrows and aimed. They shot at the same time, her shuriken landing on the cutout figure’s throat and his arrows landing one on the knee and the other on the shoulder.

“So,” she began, lining up her next throw. “Are we gonna go look for Lucky or are we just gonna leave him to fend for himself?”

Clint shrugged, “He’ll be fine. ‘S not like this is the first time he’s wandered off. He never goes far.”

“Uh-huh. And what's going on with Kate? Did she break something?” She asked, exhaling and flicking her wrist. The shuriken curved in the air, imbedding itself into the cutout’s heart. 

“She’s been getting bad headaches lately, just wanted to make sure everything was okay upstairs,” he answered easily, notching three arrows this time. 

“Considering how many times the two of you get knocked on the head, it's about time one of you got checked,” Natasha teased lightly, twirling a shuriken in each hand. “When is your next mandatory physical? I feel I should clear my schedule ahead of time to drag you kicking and screaming.” 

“Not telling you.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll find out anyway,” she shot back, the shurikens flying from her fingers to dig deep into the eye sockets of the cutout’s head. 

“Speaking of medical crap, when is Liho supposed to have her kittens?” Clint asked as he started to place the arrows back into his quiver. A quick change of subject, she might have to bribe the medical staff to hold his physical earlier than every six months. Just to be safe. 

“In about eighteen days,” she prattled off the top of her head, having memorized and begun warily counting down starting the day she had found out Liho was expecting. “Why? Have you changed your mind? Decided to get Lucky a little brother or sister?”

“No,” he said with a huff. “Lucky is happy being an only child.”

“You don’t even know where your ‘only child’ is. Maybe if Lucky had a sibling he would have someone to look out for him,” she suggested slyly, peeling the shurikens out of the cutout figure.

“The answer’s still no, Nat.”

Natasha shrugged with a smile, “Worth a shot.”

A litany of barks rang from the front door and Clint practically ran towards the door. She chuckled and began stowing away the shuriken, contemplating whether or not she should try to organize the mess he had his weapons in. She started to unravel a twisted pair of nunchucks before giving up and placing the shuriken in a neat, stacked pile. Clint or Kate would have to eventually clean up their own mess. 

“Hey buddy, where you been?” she heard Clint ask Lucky affectionately. “And why do you smell like a Mexican food truck?”

Natasha walked slowly into the kitchen area, fiddling with her phone. A confused, yet weirdly satisfied smile spread across her face as she read through the texts that she had been receiving over the past couple of days.

Captain: Nat, Tony is building an Iron Cat. Apparently, YOU gave him the idea. I think it’s only fair that since you did then you should be the one to talk him out of it. 

Captain : It has lasers. It is a robot cat with lasers. He won’t listen to me and he keeps shooting me with the lasers.

Captain : Tony locked me out of the lab. Please can you talk to him?

Captain : If he tells you that I ripped the robot cat to pieces I did not.

Captain : Natasha.

Captain : Natasha, please. I think he’s started building an army of those things.

Captain Danvers: I just talked to Jess. You are a lying liar who lies.

Captain Danvers: I get first pick of the litter. 

Scarlet Witch Jr.: Kate told me that your cat was fixing to have kittens and that you needed to find good homes for them. Teddy and I are interested in getting one, could you tell me when the due date is and when we could stop by to pick one out? Thank you!

Thor: GREETINGS MY SHIELD SISTER I HAVE BEEN NOTIFIED THAT YOUR FELINE COMPANION HAS BEEN BLESSED WITH MANY KITTENS LADY JANE HAS GIVEN ME PERMISSION TO ADOPT ONE IF YOU WILL PERMISS IT THE KITTENS THAT END UP IN MY CARE WILL BE TREATED LIKE KINGS FOR THE ENTIRETY OF THEIR DAYS.

“What are you smiling about?” Clint gasped a heartbeat after he asked, his eyes going wide. “Whose life did you ruin? Is it mine? Please tell me it isn’t mine!”

“I didn’t ruin anyone’s life,” Natasha answered, kneeling down to rub at Lucky’s soft ears and gave him a kiss on his furry golden forehead. “In fact, I think I’m making a lot of people’s lives better. So far I may have found homes for a few of the kittens.”

“Poor bastards,” he muttered with a sad shake of his head. 

“You’re just jealous because you really want a kitten for yourself,” she hummed and scratched at the base of Lucky’s neck, making the dog’s head loll to the side in happiness, his tail wagging relentlessly. Natasha wished Liho would be this affectionate and not always insistent on kneading her claws deep into her skin as a way to show she cared. 

Sometimes dogs were better than cats. 

Not that she’d ever tell Clint that.

***************

A Day Later...

Natasha’s Apartment...

***************

“Liho,” Natasha said, voice low pitched. “Get out of my laundry basket.”

Liho blinked up at her with narrowed eyes, her claws working furiously into the tattered green sweater she was laying on top of. Her belly looked painfully engorged with the vast number of kittens developing inside of her. Natasha fully expected Liho to pop before her official due date. The thought almost made her start to panic; imagining her poor, difficult cat exhausted and in pain without her there to watch over her.

She also imagined that same poor, difficult cat of hers giving birth--with all the nasty, birthing side effects--on top of her freshly laundered clothes.

That image in her head was slowly starting to morph into a reality as Liho had begun to form an attachment to her laundry room and her laundry basket. The stubborn asshole refused to set a single paw in the cat bed with a liner that Natasha had stowed away in her closet for her to get used to. 

“I mean it,” she threatened, tugging on the sleeve of the sweater until Liho had almost rolled off of it. Liho growled at what she probably perceived to be an injustice and a violation of her rights as the mistress of the household.

Natasha pushed her pointer and middle finger into Liho’s shoulder, not enough pressure to hurt but enough pressure to cause discomfort and annoyance. Liho’s growls rumbled almost comically loud as she continued to remain immobile. 

“You are not giving birth on my clothes,” she insisted, digging her fingers in a little deeper. Natasha didn’t want to pick up her cat, wary about touching the protruding belly since she felt like she was crushing the kittens within. It was weird and creepy and she did not like it.

Liho nipped her sharp teeth at Natasha’s offending hand.

“Bite all you want, I will not stop pestering you until I am certain you won’t come back in here until after your disgusting explosion of bundles of joy,” she informed her, digging her fingers in a bit deeper. 

Liho hissed and grudgingly stood up, hopping out of the basket to waddle away with her tail lashing furiously. 

Natasha smiled triumphantly. She lifted up the basket and looked around, trying to figure out a place where Liho wouldn’t be able to reach. Which was difficult since Liho was a master of finding her way into places that by any logic she shouldn’t be able to get into. Eventually she decided to just stick it in one of her hallway closets, one of the few that Liho rarely went into. Natasha could only assume it was because a firearms’ rack wasn’t comfortable to take a nap on.

She settled on her couch, grabbing one of the case files stacked neatly on her coffee table. The terrorist cell that had hired Man-Ape still remained elusive and none that had claimed the attack had any physical evidence to back-up their claims.

Natasha frowned at the file in her hands and glanced around superstitiously before shoving it to the bottom of her stack. She wasn’t in the mood for an international case that would probably require her to uproot. Plus, terrorists of this caliber tended to be like a nest of hornets. If she whacked their nest with a baseball bat, most likely they would sting the hell out of her until she exterminated them all.

The next folder held information regarding the giant green sloths. Another incident that was suspected to have been the result of a terrorist cell but with no physical evidence to be linked to any. In her personal opinion, Natasha believed the mutated mammals were most likely caused by some lone budding megalomaniac. Or some whacked out scientist who really liked the color green and sloths and when he or she put them together the results escaped before they realized how horrible an idea that was.

Natasha shook her head, trying to clear it and focus on the mission. She swore she used to be better at paying attention than this.

After an hour of scouring through several classified databases, Natasha had a few leads on how to track down the culprit or culprits responsible for the incident. Sometime during her work, Liho had waddled into the living room and settled into the brown leather recliner that was adjacent to the couch. 

Feeling that her professional work was at least one percent done today, she moved on to more personal matters. As of today, Natasha had seventeen days or less to find homes for the remaining kittens. So far, she was forcing two on Carol, giving one to Billy, and giving another x-amount of kittens to Thor. 

She pulled out her phone and swiped down her list of contacts, mentally calculating which ones would willingly want a cat and which ones she could possibly trick into getting one. It would all be for the greater good in the end. 

Natasha clicked on one of her contacts. It was one she technically wasn’t supposed to know about or use but desperate times called for desperate measures. 

“Hello! This is Barney Stinson, owner of Legendary the awesomest place for all of your laser tag fantasies. How can I make your life suck less today?” an annoyingly chipper voice boomed from the phone.

“Hi, Barney, it’s Natasha. I’m a coworker of Robin’s,” she explained. “We did investigative reporting for Channel 22 in Alberta.”

The code phrase Maria had given her was definitely something she wasn’t supposed to use. God, Maria was going to kill her.

“Is Robin okay?” were the first words out of Barney’s mouth, obviously much too used to hearing that phrase and being told something awful and impersonal. She could hear his breathing beginning to become erratic as he started to panic. 

“Yeah, she’s fine. I’m genuinely calling as a friend,” Natasha attempted to placate him. 

“That’s what they said last time,” he hissed. “And a few days later giant tentacle monsters were invading New York.”

Natasha mentally went through all of the invasions New York had gone through and said slowly,” Tentacle monsters have never invaded New York.”

“That’s what they want you to think,” Barney whispered conspiratorially. Natasha filed that away for later investigation. 

“I’m calling because my cat is having kittens and I was wondering--”

“Hiya Barney! Hi Natasha!” a bubbly feminine voice cut in. 

“Patrice?” Barney asked. “What are you doing on this line?”

“Ms. Hill told me to cut off this line, but I though that would be a teensy bit rude. So, could the two of you hang up pretty please?” her voice was perky and sweet like sugar. Natasha wondered why it made her want to punch someone in the face. 

“I told you to cut off the line, Patrice,” a dark voice growled. “Barney, hang up.”

“Aaaw, c’mon. I can be involved in your super secret spy stuff.”

“Hang. Up.”

“Ugh, fine. Way to be a spoilsport.” A sharp click followed his complaint. A few seconds passed, the only sound quiet breathing.

“Maria--,” Natasha started to explain herself.

“Not yet, Natasha,” Maria snapped. “Barney, I know you’re still there. I’m serious. Hang up now or else.”

“Or else what?” he scoffed. “You’ll tell on me to Lily? Puh-lease, Robin. That won’t work.”

Natasha was beginning to feel like an outsider in a situation that she had created. Maybe starting with this particular brand of crazies wasn’t the best place to start looking for future homes for her kittens. To think that she thought she could manipulate the husband of Maria Hill into accepting a kitten seemed pretty out there even for her skills. She probably should have tried Peter first, since the kid was so gullible. 

“Uh, maybe we should all try to talk through this in a civilized--”

“NOBODY ASKED YOU PATRICE!” yelled Maria in a very un-Maria-like fashion. Natasha pulled her phone away from her ear to recheck the number she had dialed. Yep, it was the right one. And she had thought spending more than five minutes with Tony or Clint was an insanity trip. This nonsense could probably have its own reality show. 

“If you don’t hang up right now, I’ll tell your mother.”

Barney drew in a hissing breath, exclaiming, “Not my Mommy!”

Patrice gasped.

Natasha wondered if she should hang up the phone.

“Fine,” he groaned. “You win.” Another click followed his resignations. 

She slowly pulled the phone away from her ear, attempting to follow suit. Her thumb was barely hovering over the cancel button when Maria ordered,” Natasha, don’t you dare hang up. Explain to me what the hell you were thinking dragging Barney into this.”

“Well, as you may know,” she said. “Liho is expecting kittens and I was thinking maybe Barney would want to get one for Ellie. I hear it’s good for a kid to have a pet.”

“Ellie is two, Natasha,” Maria said slowly. “She doesn’t need a cat. She’d probably squeeze it to death.”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if I were giving away puppies,” Natasha protested.

“Yeah, well dogs are better than cats,” were Maria’s parting words, followed by a dial tone.

“Hmmm,”she pondered for a second, still reeling from the strange conversation she had just been a part of. “Hey, Patrice, do you want a kitten?”

“Oh! I would love one,” Patrice giggled. “But my apartment doesn’t allow pets. Sorry.”

Natasha ended the call.

She stared at her phone for a little while, questioning her life choices. She glanced over to the recliner to see Liho glaring at her judgmentally. Natasha glared back. If Liho hadn’t gotten knocked up then she wouldn’t have to go through with this mess. 

Resigning herself to her fate, Natasha clicked on her next contact. At least with this one she would have leverage. 

“What do you want?” Barney Barton snapped irritably. The sounds of cheering and sirens were in the background. “I’m busy.”

“You owe me,” she informed him smoothly. “And I’m cashing in on your debt.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” he reaffirmed.

“You don’t get to say no to me,” Natasha said, before continuing sarcastically. “Besides, I’m not going to make you do anything that would damage your squeaky clean reputation. You might even like it.”

“The answer is still no. Call another time,” then the bastard hung up on her. Natasha immediately re-dialed his number, 

“You should not have done that,” she told him coldly when he finally picked up. 

“Why can’t you bother Clint with whatever you want?” he complained. “He’s one of your boy toys that you actually like and that’ll do anything for you. Tell ‘im to jump and he’ll ask ‘into what burning building?’”

“While that is a disturbingly accurate description of Clint, I already asked him and he said no. So, I need you to do this for me and since you owe me one you have no other choice.”

“Wait, wait--you’re telling me that my brother told you no? You sure you asked him and not some clone that isn’t easily manipulated by pretty women?” Barney laughed as he asked. The cheering in the background reached a high note. Natasha pondered over which of Simone’s kids played soccer. Probably the older one, since the crowd seemed much more invested in the game than if it were just a bunch of little kids chasing a ball with their hands. Of course, she didn’t really know and she couldn’t quite recall how old Simone’s kids were. 

“Does it really matter? He said no and you can’t say no. End of story. The bottom line is that in about six to nine weeks I’ll be dropping off a package at your door. It is your job to open the box and take very good care of what’s inside,” she instructed, hoping to leave no room for argument. 

“This better not be what I think this is about,” he muttered, low and cautious. “I am out of the game. I’m doin’ right by Simone. I even got a real job that doesn’t involve shooting people or scamming them. Don’t do this to me. Don’t ruin what I’ve got.”

“Sorry, Barney. I don’t have any other choice. Be prepared for the package,” she said ominously before hanging up.

Liho was still glaring at her from the recliner.

“What?” Natasha asked the cat. “This’ll be funny when it's all over. Don’t judge me.”

Natasha went back through her contacts, mentally calculating which ones she could trick into accepting a kitten and which ones would want a kitten. The latter would be much more convenient but the former was much, much more tempting. 

She clicked on a name and hoped for the best. 

“Xavier Institute for Higher Learning. How may I help you?” 

“Kitty Pryde?” Oh, the sweet, sweet irony.

“Agent Romanoff?” 

“Yes. Could you put me through to Professor X?” Natasha asked politely. She lifted up her free hand, picking at her pointer finger’s nail with her thumbnail. 

“Sure, but it might take a few minutes. I think he’s grading papers in his classroom,” Kitty Pryde paused before continuing. “He tells me he’s on his way. Would it be okay if I put you on hold until he gets here?”

“That’s fine,” she answered, still speaking even as he skin crawled. She hated telepathy. It was dangerous and a violation of basic human rights. The very idea of someone being able to play with her mind like putty was the forefront of her worst nightmares. 

Time crawled as she waited for the Professor to pick up the phone. Natasha nestled her phone in between the crook of her shoulder and her ear to hold it in place as she brought up her other hand to chip away at her flaking red nail polish. She looked at Liho, who had turned to face the back of the recliner, her tail tapping in a rhythm against the leather. 

“Good afternoon, Ms. Romanoff,” Professor X’s smooth, British voice ended the silence. 

Natasha reached up to grip her phone in her hand, “Good afternoon, Professor. I’m just calling to ask what your policy regarding pets on campus is? Is it just the staff that can own pets or are the students allowed to as well?”

“The official policy states that there are no animals allowed on campus if they are not used for educational purposes and property of the school. Of course, this policy in no way encompasses the students whose mutations give them animalistic qualities. They are allowed with open arms.”

She cocked an eyebrow as she said, matter-of-factly,” Professor, I have photographic evidence that shows that a member of your staff is in possession of a pet dragon and that you are aware of its presence on campus. Does the policy make a specific exception for dragons or does this rule only become overlooked in cases of favoritism?”

“The policy,” he explained slowly, completely unphased by her abrupt accusations, “makes exceptions for sentient life possessing equivalent or surpassing intellectual levels of an average human. Lockheed--the dragon-like creature you speak of--is a member of an extraterrestrial race that is visiting the campus in order to become acquainted with Earth customs.”

“If Lockheed is a creature with human-level intelligence, wouldn’t he be capable of speech?” Natasha asked. “Since there is no reliable proof that the creature can speak and reason beyond instinct, then Lockheed is nothing more than an animal and should not be allowed on your school’s grounds.”

“That is a rather narrow view of what contests as human-level intelligence, as many humans are incapable of speech due to medical reasons, “ Professor X refuted. “ Using my ability, I am able to measure a being’s intelligence and if I find they meet this requirement , I allow them to reside on school grounds.”

Natasha puzzled over that for a few seconds before moving forward with her strategy, “Professor, your abilities allow you to read the thoughts of every organic being, correct?”

“Yes,” he answered immediately. 

“And telepathy is a very rare mutation, correct?”

“So far, yes.”

“Then your claims over Lockheed’s level of intelligence could be false, since there is no possible way for your claims to be proven by the average human. For all anyone could know, any animal you come across you could say has human intelligence and in reality it could just be an instinct driven creature.”

“Ms. Romanoff--” he attempted to cut into her speech, but she persisted.

“Although, there could be benefits from having an ordinary mammal on campus to study in comparison to the extraterrestrial one-- especially one of similar behaviors. Like a cat. Now, I have a proposition so that--”

Natasha went back through her contacts, mentally calculating which ones she could trick into accepting a kitten and which ones would want a kitten. The latter would be much more convenient but the former was much, much more tempting. 

She clicked on a name, her lips twitching into a smile.

Natasha heard a weary sigh on the other end of the line, followed by one word, “No.”

“Coulson--”

“No.”

“You don’t even know--”

“No.”

“But--”

“No,” he hung up on her. 

“Asshole,” she huffed indignantly to the dead air. Natasha went back to scrolling through her contacts. She went up and clicked, feeling a little bit pushy as the call went through.

“Hi, Nat,” Kate greeted, sounding slightly out of breath. With that, Natasha expected to hear the accompaniment of bullets ricocheting, people screaming, arrows being fired. Instead, she only heard silence in the background.

“Hey, so I was wondering--”

“The answer’s still no, Natasha,” Kate cut her off, clearly already knowing what she was calling her for. “Yes, a kitten would be cute. Yes, Lucky could use a little brother or sister. No, we are not getting a cat.”

“Okay. I knew all of that. I was just calling to see how you’re doing. Clint told me you had to go to the doctor yesterday. So, how’s your head?” she asked casually.

“Nice save, oh suave master of espionage,” Kate said with a small snort of disbelief. “My head’s fine, not that you really care. Now get it over with and ask what you really wanna ask me.”

“Fine,” she muttered. “Are you absolutely, one hundred percent certain you don’t want a cat?”

“Yes, I am absolutely, one hundred percent certain that I don’t need a cat,” Kate answered matter-of-factly. “Now cut the bullshit and ask what you really, really wanted to ask me or else I’m taking away your badass bitch card for being a scared little dick.”

“I should wash out your mouth with soap,” Natasha chastised in mock astonishment. “Captain America would be appalled at your language, young lady.”

“Nat, that joke is so old. Let it go.”

“That joke will never be old,” she protested, hoping to distract Kate with stupid banter.

“Quit going off topic. I’m starting to doubt your abilities as a spy.”

“In my defense, I haven’t had to be a spy in quite awhile,” she sighed, before asking what she had been trying to suss out of Kate. “What’s been going on with you lately? It seems like you’ve been upset the last few times I’ve seen you. Are you going to make a break to Cali again?”

“Well, I think I’ve been banned from California after the last time,” Kate said with a nervous laugh. “It’s nothing, just a few medical issues.”

A normal person would leave it at that, but Natasha had never been a normal person,” Is it your head? A mental illness or a physical one? Does this involve anything radioactive?”

“No, it’s just a stomach bug and the usual superhero downfall self-doubting schtick. I’ll get over it.”

“Okay,” Natasha stored that information away. “If you need to get away from the usual superhero downfall self-doubting shtick for a while in a healthy manner, you know who to call. Now that we’ve gotten our chick flick moment of the day out of the way, I’ve got to get back to finding homes for Liho’s kittens. Are you sure--?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Bye, Nat.”

Dismissed, Natasha returned to her hunt. A loud meow came from below her and she looked down to see Liho at the foot of the couch staring back at her challengingly. 

“Done being mad at me?” she asked, patting her lap with her free hand invitingly. Liho huffed and leapt up, her belly swaying. Natasha crooked her legs to provide the cat with a nest to burrow into. She rubbed at Liho’s soft ears and a purr erupted from the feline’s throat. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Natasha considered calling Pepper and asking her if she would like a kitten. Probably not, since Pepper had never struck her as someone who enjoyed the idea of having a pet. She was much too neat and orderly for something as messy as an animal. Besides, she already had Tony and that counted as a child and a pet all rolled into one adult human disaster that probably took all of her energy to try to control.

Maybe Darcy? The woman did owe her a favor and she did like animals. Natasha knew this because she had once--due to non-nefarious reasons--hacked into Darcy’s computer and found several folders containing pictures and videos of puppies and kittens. She had also found a folder dedicated to shirtless men holding puppies and kittens, but that knowledge wasn’t really of use at the moment since Natasha didn’t want to give away Steve in order for Darcy to take a kitten.

Preparing to call her, Natasha smiled down at Liho and ran her nails over the cat’s skull and followed her spine the way she knew Liho liked. Liho arched her back into the motion happily. With her hand a pale contrast to the black fur underneath, Natasha gave her chipped red nail polish a cursory glance. She really should know by now that painting her nails really wasn’t worth it since in her line of business, they ended up not lasting long.

As she stared, lost in her thoughts, Natasha lifted a hand and squinted at her thumbnail where etched deliberately into the remaining red was a crude ‘X’. 

That mutant mind controlling son-of-a-bitch, she thought venomously, swearing revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are encouraged and kudos are welcomed! Thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

***************

A Week and Five Days Later…

Steve and Bucky’s Apartment...

***************

“You don’t think they’re a little,” Natasha struggled, debating whether to be polite or not. She scrubbed at the pasta sauce on the plate a little harder, holding it under the running water to rinse it off. “Lame?”

“They seem perfectly reasonable to me,” Steve said, plucking the plate from her hand to dry it. “I’ve heard worse in this century. I may sound a little old fashioned, but why do people feel the need to give animals people names?”

“It fulfills a person's need to nurture another creature while also serving as a placeholder for a human child,” she explained. “And people of this century realize that having an actual baby will result in spending copious amounts of money, years of emotional turmoil, and eventual abandonment. So, they get a pet and treat it like a child. All the love and none of the side effects.”

“It's a thankless job,” he observed, putting the plate in its proper place. 

“No, but seriously, the names are so unoriginal.”

“You’re the one who told me that we have to let him make decisions on his own. That’s why we even have four dogs in the first place.”

“I know,” she grumbled. “But Spot? Really? He doesn’t even have any spots!”

“I think it’s supposed to be ironic.”

“I think he honestly thinks it’s a good name.”

“What about the rest of the names? They seem like good, traditional,” he stressed the second word, “names for dogs.”

“Rover, Spot, Lady, and Fido are boring names. A mute gorilla could be more creative than that,” she insisted, tilting the plate under the stream of water to where it splashed onto Steve. He gave a small huff of offense, twisting the towel in his hands and snapping it to catch the side of her arm. Natasha smiled and kicked him softly in the leg in retaliation. 

A small growl erupted from behind them.

Gripping a butter knife in hand, Natasha turned around and looked down to see Fido glaring at her, a non-threatening puppy-snarl plastered on his face.

“He does not like me very much,” she said, kneeling down to extend her knifeless hand towards the puppy. Fido gave her hand a disgusted glance before backing out of the kitchen, keeping his eyes on her until he breached the doorway. 

“Fido’s--” Natasha arched a mocking brow upon hearing the name spoken aloud--”just really protective. I think they might have a little bit of Rottweiler in them and he got the most of it.”

“Or,” Natasha proposed, standing up and tapping the hilt of her knife on Steve’s nose,” he learned how to be an aggressive little shit from watching his masters. Y’know they say a pet’s personality reflects its owner’s.”

Steve plucked the knife out of her hand, taking the towel and drying it from hilt to tip with a quick, efficient stroke, “ And what does that logic say about you when compared to Liho?”

“By that logic I am sneaky, adorable, and really good at getting what I want,” she said with a laugh, looping her arms loosely around his waist and resting her chin on his chest . She blinked up at him, batting her eyes sweetly. Steve set the towel down and cupped her face in his hands, bending down to press a kiss to her smiling mouth.

Natasha hummed in satisfaction, standing on the tips of her toes to deepen the kiss.

She released her hold of his waist to trail over his chest and arms. Her hands stopped moving once they had encircled the back of his neck and she tugged him to bend down more for easier access. Steve’s hands dropped to her waist, slipping his fingers under her shirt to caress her skin.

Natasha’s teeth nipped at his bottom lip, softening the bite with a wet swipe of her tongue. One of Steve’s hands wandered further up her shirt to cup her breast through the thin material of her bra. His thumb brushed over where her nipple strained against the fabric and a shudder ran through her. She hitched a leg up around his waist and he dropped a hand to catch it, twisting them around to where she was pressed up against the sink, water soaking into the back of her shirt.

“Avengers Assemble!” twin voices screeched in tandem from his pocket and her purse. “Avengers Assemble! Avengers Assemble! Avengers Assemble! Avengers Assemble! Avengers Assemble!”

Natasha pulled away from Steve, panting for air. He pressed his face into the hollow of her throat, pressing a brief kiss there before asking morosely, “Are we ever going to have sex without being interrupted?”

“It might not be an end of the world thing,” she answered, a tiny bit desperate. “We could make it quick. Say we got held up in traffic.”

Even as she said it, both of them were already pulling apart. She readjusted her shirt and he readjusted his pants. Steve pulled his phone out of his and his demeanor changed once he answered it, putting the call on speaker as they headed out the door, “Captain America and Black Widow reporting in. What’s the emergency?”

“There appears to be an ongoing terrorist attack on the Empire State Building by the Brotherhood of Mutants,” J.A.R.V.I.S.’s voice floated from the device, crisp and clear.

“Is Magneto already there?” Natasha inquired. He was known for monologuing, it would provide them precious time to get Hawkeye a plastic arrow tipped with a tranquilizer formula that could take him down. Take him out and the whole operation fell apart.

“No, presently Magneto is in Genosha, attending his granddaughter’s ballet recital.”

Natasha and Steve shared a puzzled look, and he voiced their confusion, “Why would the Brotherhood of Mutants be attacking without Magneto? This isn’t how they usually run these things that are meant to be big statements.”

She shrugged, already running possibilities through her head,” Maybe he realized that staging an assault like this and being there isn’t very smart? Maybe they’re operating without him?”

“You think it might be a renegade faction of the Brotherhood?” he asked. 

“Could be, let’s find out.”

***************

Midnight…

Avengers Tower, Medical Floor...

***************

Natasha didn’t flinch when one of the nurses began stitching up the gash in her arm. She dipped her tongue briefly into the split that cut the corner of her mouth, tasting the iron tang of the wound. Her leg screamed in protest where it lay, not broken or sprained, just bruised. Her eyelids started to droop as the mild painkillers they gave her began to kick in. Natasha had protested against them. She could handle the pain. 

Steve was in the corner of the room, filling out his field report.

“Well, I was right,” she commented, although not happy about it. “A breakoff group.”

“Uh-huh,” he sounded just as thrilled as she did. Or maybe he was still upset because the finale of the battle had resulted in Professor X--the bastard--putting Magneto on speakerphone so he could berate the terrorists for conducting an attack without his permission. It had been like having a principal call a child’s parent because they were misbehaving. Except in this situation there had been hostages and fire. Lots of fire. 

Natasha wished the X-Men had stayed out of Avenger business. Mostly because she was still pissed about the Professor mindbending her for whatever reason that she couldn’t remember. 

Her stitches completed, Natasha pulled out her phone, suddenly longing to see her apartment and Liho. She already knew that she wouldn’t be going home tonight; they still had to go through the procedural, bureaucratic bullshit that something this high profile required. Afterwards, she would probably crash in one of the vacant bedrooms in the Tower.

She stared wistfully at her kitchen, the triple-chocolate cake that she felt she deserved right now was resting temptingly on the counter. The couch looked even more inviting than normal and she imagined lying down and passing out while a mindless movie played on her television. The camera in her bedroom showed Liho laying on her side in the center of the bed and Natasha was filled with envy for the lazy feline. 

On screen, Liho’s ear twitched, her tail flicked. 

Natasha really wanted to run her fingers through Liho’s soft, black fur--and those ‘mild’ painkillers might have been a little bit tougher than what she had been led to believe.

“What are you smiling about?” Steve asked, pushing his report aside. 

“I think I might be a little high,” Natasha said, proving her observation with a dopely little giggle that would never have crossed her lips in any other circumstance. 

“Do you want to leave and claim medical unsoundness?” he suggested, only half-joking, already looking prepared to bust the two of them out of there. Such a rebel, her Captain America. Her Steven “Rebel” Grant Rogers. 

Natasha squinted back down at her screen and tilted her head as Liho curled into herself, sniffing at a small lump near her rump.

Oh. Shit. Oh, fuck. Not now. Damnit Liho.

She shook her head, trying to think straight, standing up on shaky, aching legs, announcing, “I need to get home. Right now.”

Steve leapt to his feet, looking slightly wary. Natasha didn’t know why since he was the one who suggested they bail first. Normally, she would never leave right after a battle but this time was different. She was missing the birth of her grandkittens! 

“Nat, you okay? How many fingers am I holding up?” Unironically he waved his hand in front of her face and she glared at him.

“Three,” she bit out, walking with as much dignity that she could muster out of the room. Steve’s hands hovered around her shoulders, discreetly keeping her on a straight path. 

“I’m a babushka,” Natasha said as she slapped his hands away. “I don’t need you babying me, but we need to leave. My Liho needs me.”

“You still haven’t explained to me why you’re in such a hurry to get home,” Steve pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest and keeping pace with her. Natasha was pleased to note that he didn’t try to deter her from leaving, which was a different thing than what she was used to from the few other times she had drugs in her system.

“Liho’s having her kittens,” the moment those words left her mouth, the bubbling of panic in her chest exploded and she started walking faster, controlling her breathing.

This was why she did not like medication. It made her emotions run wild. She should be in more control than this.

“Fuck,” Steve muttered. “I think that counts as a family medical emergency. Let’s get downstairs and we’ll take my bike.”

“No, you won’t,” Tony’s voice floated from...everywhere. Natasha kept walking, the only focus in her mind that her baby was in pain and having babies and all alone and she needed to get home yesterday. “You and crazy cat-grandma will be taking a quinjet that I have all prepped for you to go.”

Once in the quinjet, J.A.R.V.I.S. piloting, Natasha stared obsessively at her phone’s screen. Her worry and stress continued to build as no other kittens came out. She squinted and tried to examine the first kitten, resigning herself to upgrade the cameras so that they could zoom in on her command.

“Nat?”

“What, Steve?” She spread her fingers on the touchscreen, trying to will the technology to do her bidding. 

“I know you’re distracted and probably still pretty heavily medicated, but are we really not going to discuss the present box behind us?”

“Yes.”

Steve shrugged, “Okay, then. But aren’t you the tiniest bit concerned since it’s from Tony?”

“Tony could have planted a fuckin’ bomb in that box and as long as it doesn’t go off near my cats I don’t care,” she growled and then asked J.A.R.V.I.S., “How much longer until we’re at my apartment?”

“Thirty seconds.”

Liho pushed out another kitten and Natasha breathed a sigh of relief. Two out, thirteen with the possibility of more to go. 

The second the quinjet landed on the apartment’s roof, Natasha practically flew out of the craft. She scurried down the fire escape. When she arrived at her heavily tinted window, she flicked open the hidden retina scanner in the bricks. Natasha climbed into her apartment’s kitchen and almost barged into her bedroom before checking herself and taking in a deep breath to calm down.

Natasha slowly opened the door and crept into the room. Small mewls were coming from the bed where Liho lay and she crouched down near the foot of the bed. She typed a quick message into her phone telling Steve to get her supplies out of the hall closet. 

She counted three bundles curled up next to Liho. Two of the kittens were squirming and claiming nipples to drink from. The third was still. 

Her throat tight, Natasha reached forward and pressed her fingers against the kitten’s chest. No pitter-patter of a heartbeat thrummed under her fingertips. Keeping an eye on Liho’s reaction, she gently cupped the fragile little body in her hands and drew it closer to her. Liho didn’t protest and neither did the kitten.

Cradling the kitten to her chest, she started to rub the fur the wrong way, pressing warm palms against its body to try and get the blood flowing. The limp kitten rolled around in her hands, loose limbed and lifeless.

Her phone buzzed and she stopped her hopeless ministrations to read the text message. She stood up and opened the door a little, the kitten still held close. Steve glanced down at the kitten, his eyes going soft before she said, “It didn’t make it. Did you get the towels and the bed?”

“I got whatever is in this bag,” he answered, holding up a bag labeled ‘Cat Stuff’. Natasha took it from him with her free hand. 

He grabbed the door as she went to close it and gestured towards the kitten, looking a little lost, “ Do you want me to…?”

“No,” she murmured with a firm shake of her head. Her thumb stroked the kitten’s back. “I’ll take care of this.”

Natasha shut the door, Steve still reluctant to leave her alone. She went back to her spot at the foot of the bed, but instead of crouching on the floor she sat perched on the edge. She set the kitten down gently next to her. 

There were now five bundles wriggling at Liho’s side and the cat was already panting heavily, not even halfway done. Natasha pried them one at a time, kicking and screaming, away from Liho’s teats to clean each kitten up with a soft towel. While she had them in hand, she inspected them thoroughly to make sure they were healthy and that their hearts were beating strongly.

After the kittens had had some milk and were cleaned and inspected over by Natasha, she would place them in the small cat bed she had placed near Liho. Natasha counted over how many they were at now.

Eight kittens were in the cat bed, one was laying next to her. Possibly four more for Liho to push out.

Liho was staring longingly at the kittens in the bed as another contraction wracked her body.

“I know,” Natasha whispered soothingly. “You want this to be over just as much as I do. You’re almost done. Suck it up for a few more minutes.”

Liho grumbled at her and pushed out another kitten, twisting around to lick at the wet mass. Natasha absently realized that she would probably have to burn her blankets and sheets after all of this messy ordeal was over. She had really liked the design of this set, too. 

Natasha decided to worry about that later. 

The newest kitten, freshly groomed and fed, squirmed and mewled in her hands, protesting against the towel she wrapped it in. She smiled and stroked the side of its body with her knuckles, the silky fur tickling her skin. The kitten kicked and squealed, looking for its mother. She placed the little one in the bed next to its brothers and sisters (or maybe just sisters, maybe just brothers, Natasha hadn’t checked).

Ten kittens were in the cat bed, one was laying next to her. Despite the situation, Natasha found herself relaxing and falling into a pattern as the kittens were arriving at regular two minute intervals now.

She scratched Liho’s ears and the cat glared at her, looking miserable. Her breathing was harsh and erratic, claws digging into the soiled comforter. Natasha didn’t understand why her cat wanted to be mean to her when all of this discomfort she had brought onto herself. Well, brought onto herself and caused by Natasha’s neglectful ownership.

Another kitten slid out, almost instantaneously followed by another one. The break in the comfortable pattern rekindled Natasha’s nerves and she kept a close eye on Liho, checking to make sure she wasn’t bleeding excessively or that her heartbeat wasn’t beating dangerously fast. 

She was fine. Liho was fine. Most of the kittens were fine. Twelve kittens were in the cat bed, one was laying next to her. Only one or two to go. Natasha hoped it was only one. She wanted this to be over. Liho wanted this to be over.

There was only one left, thankfully. It was pure white and made no sound of protest as Natasha held it. Its breathing was deep and even. 

She sent Steve a quick, one handed text. 

Thirteen kittens. Liho is fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are encouraged and kudos are welcomed! Thank you for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

***************

3 A.M.…

Natasha’s Apartment...

***************

Liho was in the cat bed, purring and delighted to be surrounded by her many, many tiny minions. Thirteen kittens crawled and kicked each other to latch onto one of her nipples. Liho eagerly licked and cleaned them, starting on one and then moving onto another one with enthusiasm. The kittens were a mottled mess of moving colors and mewls. 

Natasha gave the bottle in her hand a little shake. She reached a hand in to grab one of the kittens who wasn’t drinking milk from their mother. Liho latched onto her hand, licking at the limb with her sandpaper tongue just as thoroughly as if it were one of her kittens.

The kitten that she picked up was one of the many black and white kittens in the litter. She looked them over and counted six--including the one in her hand--that had the similar coloring. Three that were a bright orange. Two calico. One pure white. One pure black, like Liho. 

The kitten on the bed was calico, but she was not going to think about that.

Instead she focused on the little ball of squirming fluff in her hand. She carefully wrapped it in a clean towel even as the kitten struggled against her. Natasha rubbed the small nipple of the bottle over the kitten’s lips, squeezing a little to smear milk onto its lips. The kitten pushed at the bottle with its front paws to get away, but Natasha held firm against the unfelt force. The kitten worried the rubber between its pink gums, white liquid pooling and spilling down its face. 

Eventually, the kitten started sucking and swallowing the milk. Natasha fed it--she should probably find out their genders soon--until its stomach was distended. Then, she set the kitten back into the cat bed and it snuggled up with its other mother-milk-fed siblings. She grabbed another lesser-fed kitten, once again a black and white one, and grabbed another pre-prepared bottle. 

This one decided to latch onto her thumb and attempt to suck milk out of her nail. It mewled and dug its soft claws into her skin in complaint when no milk magically flowed out of her thumbnail. 

Whenever she gently pried its mouth off of her finger, the kitten was much more agreeable to the bottle than the previous one. It instantly started suckling and greedily consumed the liquid.

As she set the kitten down and went to grab another, Natasha started to suspect that Liho was prejudiced against black and white cats, since most of the kittens that didn’t have an assigned nipple were of that color orientation. 

“Racist,” she accused, picking up another black and white kitten. Liho continued to clean her kittens--including the ones she wasn’t feeding.

Natasha was encouraging the kitten to drink when a soft knock sounded from the door. She stood up slowly to not jostle the kitten in her hands or disturb Liho and her horde. She also avoided moving the stiff calico kitten.

Steve’s gaze immediately dropped to the wiggling kitten she was carrying and he held out his hands eagerly, “I can help feed them.”

“Liho won’t like your scent being all over her babies,” she reminded him. Liho still hadn’t warmed up to Steve and Natasha didn’t want to risk the cat abandoning any of the kittens.

“Nat, you can’t feed seven kittens all by yourself,” he protested. “That’s insane. Let me help.”

“If I can stay up for two weeks straight in a Moscow prison and single-handedly escape with only a broken toothpick,” Natasha insisted, “then I can handling feeding these kittens.”

“But you don’t have to,” Steve said. “We could set up an alternating schedule--”

“That won’t be necessary, Captain,” a smooth, firm voice sounded from behind him.

Natasha pulled the kitten close, turning sideways so that it was away from the direction of the voice. Her free hand flew towards her side, unholstering her gun from her belt and lifting it up in preparation to shoot. Steve whipped his shield into his arms and spun around so that his back was to Natasha. He crouched down slightly so that he was protecting Natasha from the neck down, including the kitten. 

Standing on top of Natasha’s couch was a large, dark orange cat with bright blue eyes that was assessing the two of them coolly. The cat licked its lips before saying, “Pardon my abrupt intrusion, but I was rather cramped in the box Mr. Stark placed me in. And I have been programmed to respond to kittens in duress so their cries drew me in here as well.”

“Tony sent you?” Natasha asked, keeping her gun trained on the mysterious talking cat. 

“You were the thing in the box?” Steve questioned. 

“Yes, to both of your inquiries,” the cat responded, head ducking a little before it continued. “I am afraid that I have been quite rude, barging in here like this without providing a formal introduction. I am called J.A.M.P.A--” its eyes began to glow and blue hologram letters floated in front of its face--” or Just A Milk Producing Agent, created by Tony Stark to help ease the burden of caring for so many kittens.”

“So, he didn’t give you laser eyes?” Steve asked warily, lifting his shield slightly higher. Natasha started to loosen her grip on her gun.

“Mr. Stark programmed me to perform many things,” J.A.M.P.A. continued and Natasha noted the female voice held a trace of a Tibetan accent. “My name is quite misleading as milk production is not actually one of my features, although I can feed the kittens. I can monitor the vital signs of the kittens to check for illness, produce a saliva-like substance to clean them, have a direct emergency line to Avengers’ Tower, and I emit the same scentag as Liho so that the kittens will not be confused.” 

Natasha holstered her gun, “If you can’t produce milk, how are you supposed to feed the kittens?”

“Mr. Stark programmed the instructions,” J.A.M.P.A said and a detailed blue hologram floated in front of the robocat. 

Natasha tapped Steve’s shoulder and he lowered his defensive position reluctantly. The kitten in her hand--who had been mysteriously quiet throughout the whole interaction--started to kick up a fuss. Natasha made her way towards the robocat, holding out a hand and the hologram transferred to float in her palm.

J.A.M.P.A.’s ears pricked up at the kitten’s mewls and worriedly stated,” I believe it shouldn’t take long. The sooner we prepare the milk the sooner I can help.”

***************

6 A.M….

Natasha’s Apartment...

***************

Natasha cut a deep line through the middle of the German chocolate cake. She pulled back the knife and ran her finger over the sharp blade, collecting the bits of cake, coconut, and frosting gathered on the metal. She sucked the sweet debris off of her finger and pushed half of the cake onto a plate before sliding it over in Steve’s direction. 

“Breakfast of champions,” he proclaimed, digging his fork in and taking a long swig of milk. Their combined mission reports were stacked between them--halfway done, thankfully.

Natasha pulled the platter towards herself, raking her fork over the top of the chocolate in precise rows. She scooped up a piece and chewed it slowly, disbelievingly saying, “I have a talking cat in my apartment.”

Steve nodded, reading over the report and taking a bite out of his slice.

“I had a conversation with a talking cat.”

Steve nodded once again, picking up his pen and either making corrections to his report or adding something he felt was relevant. 

“Liho had thirteen kittens. And the talking cat is going to help me take care of them.”

Steve swallowed and corrected her a bit tentatively, “ Fourteen kittens. Didn’t Liho have fourteen kittens?”

“She had thirteen living kittens,” Natasha said, her mind drifting towards the little calico tom that they had tucked away in an old shoebox of hers and Steve had taken down to the dumpster. An unfitting burial, but Natasha hadn’t really had a plan for taking care of kitten bodies. The one time she tried to be optimistic and once again she had a body to deal with. She would say ‘story of my life’, but she wasn’t of the habit of optimism. “That’s all that matters.”

He gave her a concerned look, but they both went back to inhaling cake in companionable silence. She slid the reports closer to herself and elaborated on her observations and thoughts on developing preventive measures against attacks like this.

Natasha wondered if Tony had programmed the robocat to have taste buds. She wondered if she should cut into her half of the cake and offer J.A.M.P.A. a slice. Looking over the vast amount of chocolatey goodness still on the platter, she decided there wasn’t enough left to share. 

***************

A Week Later...

Avengers’ Tower...

***************

“I want this one,” Carol announced pointing at a picture displayed on her phone. Natasha recognized the photo as the one she had sent last night to the few people (excluding Barney) who had been enlisted to take a kitten or two. 

Interestingly, the kitten Carol was pointing towards was one of the black and white kittens. She had figured it would be more difficult to find them homes than the calico ones or the white one. 

“They’re only a week old,” she pointed out. “Don’t you want to wait until they start moving around before you pick yours out?”

Carol zoomed in to show a clearer shot of the kitten she wanted and explained, “This one has an M-shaped patch on its back. I feel it’s my destiny to own this cat.”

Natasha squinted and tried to see the M-shaped patch, she really did, but the kitten’s markings still just looked like random splotches to her. She shrugged,”Who am I to argue with destiny? Sure, that one’s yours.”

Carol smiled triumphantly and Natasha wondered what happened to the woman who she had to trick into taking a kitten in the first place. She supposed that actually seeing kittens was probably a much greater motivational factor than simply talking about them. 

“Is there another kitten you feel destined to own?” she asked and Carol looked up at her with a questioning look. “Because I distinctly remember you promising Kit that you were getting two kittens.”

Carol waved the question off, “The first kitten is for me, the second is mostly for Kit. I’ll let her pick it out in a few weeks.”

Natasha imagined Kit in her apartment surrounded by hyper and mobile kittens, a smile tugging on her lips. That would be an interesting visit. She would have to hide all of her breakables away.

***************

Later that day...

Avengers’ Tower...

***************

Natasha opened up the door to Tony’s workshop hoping nothing would blow up in her face. Tony was not working with anything containing fire or lasers. Instead, he was surrounded by holograms, mapping out upgrades for his Iron Man suit. He was completely invested in the design process and hadn’t noticed her entrance. Natasha found that J.A.R.V.I.S. not announcing her was rather unusual and was a possible security flaw within his programming. Or Tony had programmed the system to not announce certain people. A stupid idea on his part.

She crept silently towards him, keeping out of his line of sight. Although, with the way Tony worked, she probably could have done the kalinka all the way towards him and he still would not have noticed her. Breaking the line of holograms she stood behind where Tony was seated. Natasha leant forward, until her chin nearly rested on his shoulder and whispered eerily, “ I threw out all the coffee.”

Natasha smoothly stepped back in the split second that Tony tensed and leapt out of his chair with a high-pitched shriek of horror. She laughed gleefully at his expression of abject terror.

He pointed an accusing finger at her, “You are a sick, twisted little agent. I have heart problems! I could have died and then no one would be funding this shitshow!”

She rolled her eyes and decided she had messed with him enough for the day, “I just came by to thank you for J.A.M.P.A..It was a surprisingly thoughtful gift from you.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get too attached,” he muttered, looking pleased that his gift was well received. “J.A.M.P.A.’s only a loaner. Once those kittens are weaned, I get her back with no questions asked.”

“Wow, Stark, I never took you to be a taker-backer in gift giving. And I was just starting to think you might be one percent decent,” she mocked, her words containing no real bite. She was fine with relinquishing J.A.M.P.A. after the kittens were old enough. Her goal for this whole endeavor was to get good homes for all thirteen kittens and go back to living with just her and Liho. What would she do with two cats? What would she do with a talking cat?

Tony shrugged, “Do something nice then be a douche about it. Part of my reputation and I’d hate to ruin that.”

“Of course you would,” Natasha agreed. “But even with the loan bit thrown in, thanks Tony. Are you sure you don’t want a kitten?”

Tony shot her an incredulous look, “ Why would I want one of your kittens? I already have a talking cat!”

***************

Two Weeks Later…

In Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn...

***************

“Natasha,” Clint signed in exasperation. “Get your phone out of my face.”

“Look at them,” Natasha insisted, pressing the screen of her phone even closer into Clint’s face. “They’re walking and their eyes are open and they’re eating wet food. How can you not be hypnotized by their cuteness?”

He sighed, “You are way too excited for nine in the morning. Can I at least drink a pot of coffee before you harass me with videos of your precious kittens?”

“Clint, it’s one in the afternoon.”

“No it’s,” he glanced at his clock and looked lost. “It’s one in the afternoon. What the hell? I coulda sworn I set my alarm for nine.”

“Your alarm clock hasn’t worked in months,” Natasha pointed out, a little concerned now. “Are you feeling alright?”

She felt like she had been asking both Hawkeyes that same question quite a bit recently. 

Clint shuffled over to the coffee machine and pulled the pot out with one hand, pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing his tired eyes with the other. His clothes looked well worn--like everything else he owned--but there were a few fresh stains that only looked a few days old. The dark circles under his eyes were always present but today they seemed particularly pronounced.

He took a long, scalding swallow of the coffee and pulled back with a soft gasp of pleasure, “I’m feeling great. How about instead of talking about my issues, we talk about your cats.”

“Do you want one?”

“No, but I like hearing about them after I’ve had coffee,” he further emphasized that point by drinking some more, slurping loudly. 

“I know their genders now,” Natasha said. “Seven males and six females.”

“Fascinating,” he muttered with a small eye roll. Lucky padded over to him and he patted the dog’s head. Lucky rubbed against Clint excitedly, asking for more scratches, smiling up at Natasha.

“You know you want to come to my apartment and cuddle with your new nieces and nephews,” she teased, lifting up her phone once again. The video on screen showed the kittens crawling around on the floor of her bedroom, squeaking and tripping over their newfound legs. Her own hand floated into the shot to softly stroke an orange kitten wobbling closest to the camera. His little chest rumbled with a low purr that distracted him from walking and he fell over with a high-pitched mewl. The video ended with Liho grasping the kitten by the neck to save him from Natasha’s affection.

Natasha studied Clint’s face eagerly and he smiled,” Alright, fine. You win. They’re futzing adorable. When can I come over to play with them?”

Lucky’s ear pricked up at the word ‘play’ and he started bouncing in place, whining eagerly. His head cocked to the side as he looked between Natasha and Clint, his single eye wandering over both of their bodies. Probably looking for some sort of toy that he expected to be thrown.

She lowered her hand and snapped her fingers. Lucky trotted over and she started rubbing his ears vigorously. She tilted the phone’s screen to face the dog now, replaying the video and saying, “You wanna come over and see your cousins? Huh? Right Lucky?”

“Don’t fire him up,” Clint warned as Lucky began to dance and snap excitedly at her phone, thinking it to be a toy. Natasha pulled the phone back, rubbing the slobber off with her shirt, kicking out a leg to catch Lucky under his foreleg. She lifted his front an inch off the ground until the big mutt had calmed down. “I swear, it’s as if you enjoy causing problems just so you can solve them.”

“I do not. Problems occur naturally and I am usually the one most qualified to solve them,” Natasha sniffed imperiously. “You’re just jealous.”

“Of what?”

Natasha simply held up her phone and pressed play on another video, this one showing her lying down with kittens investigating her hair and getting tangled in the short, red curls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are encouraged and kudos are welcomed! Thank you for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

***************

The Next Day…

Natasha’s Apartment...

***************

“Do you think Tigra would want a kitten?” Natasha asked Steve as she picked up one of the black and white kittens, a calico kitten, and the black kitten. She set them in the crevice of her crossed legs, petting and humming soothingly at them as they tried to escape her grasp.

Steve, lying down across from her while trying to coax the rest of the miniature hoard towards himself, gave her a nonplussed answer, “Tigra just had a kitten of her own. I doubt she’s feeling the need to add anymore to have a litter. What about Jessica and Luke?”

“Luke laughed at me and said hell no. Apparently, they aren’t pet people,” she said and then snapped her fingers as an idea came to her. “Peter and M.J.! They might want one!”

Or they might be persuaded to take one. 

“They already have a dog,” Steve reminded her, his large hands grasping the scruff of the other calico kitten. The little she-kitten squealed and kicked as he drew her in, placing her in the center of his broad chest. “I think it’s called Ms. Lion? You might want to check and see if she gets along with cats.”

“He does. I see him playing with Hairball all the time in the Tower. But I thought Ms. Lions was May’s dog?” She would have to look into that later, before she called the Parker-Watson residence.

“Dunno. Have you asked any of the Hulk Clan?”

Natasha smiled in amusement at the name, “Nope, but that’s because I’m not comfortable handing my kittens over to people who may end up crushing them by accident. The only one I might be fine with taking one is Jen and she would say no.”

“Why would she say no? Is she allergic to cats?” The kitten on his chest crawled up the wide expanse, sliding into the crook of his turned neck. He brought up a hand to cradle the kitten there.

“No,” Natasha said, snatching up another black and white kitten that wandered too close to her. She placed it with its siblings in the cage of her legs. The black kitten was biting and sucking at the drawstring of her grey jogging pants while the other two were pawing in confusion at the blockade her legs had created. “But everyone is saying no.”

She looked into his eyes and complained, the newly added kitten nipping at the bare skin of her foot , “Why doesn’t anyone want my kittens? They’re adorable and sweet. People should be begging me to take one. I should already have a waiting list for these babies, but instead I’m having to hunt down anyone who might be willing to take one in.”

“Getting a pet is a big responsibility,” he reminded her. “And the people we know tend to live unpredictably dangerous lives. It makes sense that they’d be hesitant to take a kitten in.”

Natasha gave him a critical look, studying his face intensely for a few moments. After an uncomfortable time of her looking at him scrutinously, Steve asked nervously, “What?”

“Why haven’t you offered to take a kitten?”

“Did you miss the part where I explained why heroes don’t take in pets? Because it also applies as my reason for not claiming one,” he answered with a huff, flinging out an arm casually to drag one of the black and white kittens closer to him. The kitten--she recognized it as the one Carol had claimed--went lax in his grip and dozed off almost immediately at his side. “Plus, I live with an ex-assassin with PTSD worse than my own who took in four dogs without my permission.” He glared at her accusingly as he said the last part.

Natasha met his glare unflinchingly, insisting, “His therapist did say that--”

“--that he would benefit from a therapy dog. Yes, I know. We had this discussion when he first got the damn dogs, even though they aren’t technically therapy dogs.”

“Yet,” she interjected.

He rolled his eyes and continued, “Yeah, yet. They’re cute and they help Bucky feel in control and calm but they’re also difficult to care for considering our circumstances. I’m always worried that I’ll come home to a burnt apartment building because Bucky had an episode or a super villain followed them back while they went for a walk.”

“I’d put money down on the villain finding out where you live before Bucky would hurt those dogs,” Natasha said, leaping to the ex-assassin’s defense. “I know you don’t lift a finger to help with them because Barnes won’t let you. He really benefits from having them around and I think you could benefit in having something to take care of as well. Something that’s not Bucky or the Avengers.”

“Nat,” he sighed with a little bit of exasperation and a little bit of affection. “I’m not gonna argue with you on this. I don’t want a cat.”

Natasha shrugged, still a little annoyed that he wouldn’t make her job at least one kitten easier, “I guess I’ll just have to hope Thor’ll take ten kittens.”

“He might if Jane lets him,” Steve said, relaxing at the shift in topic. She would allow him the reprieve for now. He kept still as the white kitten shuffled forward and curled up next to her sibling. “Maybe some of Thor’s warrior buddies would want to take some?”

Natasha gaped at him, “And send Liho’s babies offworld? No, I’d rather give them to Doom before doing that.”

“Alright, fine. Can you think of anyone else you can con into taking a kitten?”

She snatched up an orange kitten that waddled too close to her, placing him on her shoulder, curling her arm to keep him up there. The kitten sniffed at her hair and purred at the attention, mewing in protest when she paused in scratching his ears. Natasha pondered the question once again. Apparently willing owners were not in the cards for her little ones and it was up to her to decide how underhandedly she wanted to handle this situation. 

“I can think of a few…”

***************

Two Days Later…

Jersey City, New Jersey...

***************

Natasha was blasted by a burst of cold air as she stepped into the convenience store. The cashier at the register gave her a quick greeting before returning to his conversation with a teenage girl. She returned the greeting and made her way towards the hot dog machine, tugging off her pink trucker hat to allow her long, brunette hair to tumble onto her shoulders.

She grasped a hotdog off the rotisserie rack with the hopefully clean tongs. Methodically putting condiments on the stale bun and questionable meat, she was easily able to listen in on the conversations around her. A mother and her toddler son standing behind her were having an argument over the benefits of staying in his stroller. An elderly gay couple by the small freezer section was murmuring worriedly about their mutant granddaughter who was in trouble with the law. The cashier and his companion were complaining about an unfair pop quiz in one of their classes. 

Natasha debated for a minute over getting Sun Chips or Doritos before settling on Sun Chips when the toddler’s mother gave her a disapproving look for reaching towards the Doritos. No wonder the toddler wanted to escape. 

She purchased her items just as the teenager who had been talking with the cashier darted out. Chips and hot dog in hand she walked out of the store, taking a generous bite out of the wannabe meat and uncomfortably crunchy bread. 

The sidewalks weren’t particularly crowded, but there were enough people that Natasha was afforded some anonymity without much effort. Still, she paused at a newsstand to skim over the magazines to put a little bit of distance between her and her target. She shoved what was left of the hotdog into a trashcan, tucking the chips into her purse. Out of the corner of her eye she remained focused on the direction her target was heading, the bright blue of the girl’s shirt a beacon for her to lock onto. Natasha left the newsstand as the girl turned a corner.

Natasha followed her for a few more blocks before the teenage girl abruptly stopped and dashed down an alleyway. 

She sped up, weaving through the crowd with sweat starting to bead on her brow. Turning into the alleyway, Natasha had barely gotten halfway through the narrow shortcut when her legs were snapped out from underneath her. Dangling upside down in the air, Natasha gave an experimental little sway to test her limits and the grip around her knees tightened. 

Ms. Marvel was above her, legs stretched to span the walls of the alley, one hand elongated and enlarged to grasp at Natasha with the other enlarged and curled into a fist. 

“Who are you and why are you following me?” the words tumbled out of the girl’s mouth, high-pitched and a tell-tale of her young age despite the imposing figure she looked with the sun over head to cast a dark shadow behind her.

“Y’know,” Natasha drawled conversationally, her body limp and rocking slightly. “A better way to tie someone up would be to catch them by the arms from a distance. So that way they can’t reach for a gun or a taser or a knife…”

Ms. Marvel’s eyes widened in alarm and Natasha was quick to reassure her, “Not me, though. Lucky for you I’m not one to attack teen vigilantes. It would be very hypocritical.” 

With her free hands, she expertly pulled out the pins keeping her wig in place. As the faux brown locks fell to the concrete, the grip on her legs grew and expanded until the hand engulfed her legs and most of her torso. Ms. Marvel’s other hand made as if to catch the wig before freezing, fixating on Natasha’s unruly red locks.

“You’re--”

“Yes. We both know. Can you put me down now?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure. Of course.” Ms. Marvel hurriedly set her down gently on her feet, still looking a little awed and starstruck. Natasha readjusted her clothes and kicked the wig away.

“Um, hi,” the teenage hero gave an excited little wave with her shrinking hands as she shimmied down the alley walls to stand next to Natasha. “You’re awesome and I’m an idiot for not recog--hey, wait a minute! Why were you following me in the first place?”

Natasha shrugged, “A favor for a mutual friend. They wanted me to assess your skills in locating concealed enemies.”

Ms. Marvel deflated in her outrage and excitement, asking flatly, “Coulson, Captain, or the Queen?”

“Coulson. He worries about all the teenagers running around in tights punching people.”

“So, he sends you to check up on all of them?”

“No,” typically he sent Daisy or Melinda depending on the powers or abilities of the teenager. Natasha had volunteered this time. “I actually need your help for another mission.”

“A superhero team up?” she immediately perked up at the thought. “Who are we fighting? Doom? H.Y.D.R.A? Green Goblin? Red--”

“We aren’t fighting anyone,” Natasha interrupted her before she could get too excited. “I just need you to take me to Lockjaw.”

“Why?” 

“Spy reasons,” Natasha proclaimed, lifting her brows imperiously. 

Instead of feeling compelled to help her, Ms. Marvel suspiciously shook her head and said, “Nope. I need a better reason than that. You could be an evil clone who wants to use his powers to take over the world. I need details.”

The new Ms. Marvel is smarter than I had imagined, Natasha mused proudly to herself. Teenage superheroes were certainly better than the previous generation, a fact that she would tease Kate and Peter about later. 

“I have a proposition to give him,” and technically Queen Medusa as well, “regarding taking in a creature that is in need of a permanent safe house.”

“What kind of creature? Is it extraterrestrial? Genetically enhanced? A danger to society if left by itself?” Ms. Marvel probed seriously, although Natasha did catch a hint of glee in her tone as her voice rose in pitch towards the end of her inquisitions.

“No. No. Maybe,” she answered.

Ms. Marvel pointed an accusing finger, “Rewind and answer the first question.”

Natasha sighed, “How does Lockjaw feel about cats?”

“Cats?” she echoed in disbelief. “You want Lockjaw to take in a cat? Why didn’t you just say so?”

In truth, Natasha was attempting to not manipulate the teenage girl into taking a kitten herself and thought that if Ms. Marvel were to hear about/see about the kittens she would want one. If Ms. Marvel began to express interest in wanting a kitten then Natasha could not be blamed for taking advantage of the situation. 

She lied, “A lot of people want kittens and there are a limited amount I can give. I only need the people that I want to give them to knowing that they’ve been born.”

“How many do you need to give away?”

“Thirteen.”

“Is that a lot? That sounds like a lot.”

“Not that many,” she said nonchalantly, rubbing her heel against her calf and remembering the feeling of fifty two needle-sharp claws trying to scurry up her leg that morning. “So, about where Lockjaw is…?”

“Oh, yeah. He might be waiting at my house to escort me to Attilan,” she said. “Or he might already be in Attilan with Queen Medusa. Or maybe he’s in the park taking a nap. I don’t really keep track of him, to be honest.”

Natasha’s brow furrowed, a tad disappointed that her Plan A hadn’t panned out the way she wanted. But, she was designed to be adaptable to any circumstance.

“Guess I will just have to keep following you until he shows up,” Natasha decided, pulling a pair of sunglasses out of her purse and slipping them on.

“You could just superhero team-up with me and we could go fight crime,” suggested Ms. Marvel. “Instead of stalking me. Which is really weird. Besides, you can’t exactly undercover stalk me anymore since I already see you.”

Natasha took a step backwards, her smile sharp and blindingly predatory as she proclaimed, “Oh, honey, no one can ever see me unless I want to be seen.”

After Black Widow had sashayed out of the alley, Ms. Marvel stared after her in awe for a few moments, arms limp at her sides, whispering to herself, “That is so cool.”

***************

A Few Hours Later…

Jersey City, New Jersey...

***************

Wearing a shoulder-length strawberry blonde wig, a pair of gold framed faux eyeglasses, and a hot pink tracksuit with matching tennis shoes, Natasha relaxed in the plush red leather of the diner’s boothe. She took a delicate sip of strawberry milkshake and smiled at her two companions sweetly, “This place has good milkshakes, huh?”

Kamala took a deep, slurping drink of her pistachio malt and muttered around the straw, “I’m pretty sure this is just frozen sugar-water with artificial flavoring. How are you so good at lying?”

“Eons of practice,” she chirped, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Natasha flicked off the lid of her milkshake and extended it to the third individual present at the foot of their booth. “Want some, your highness?”

Lockjaw licked at his jowls and his giant rump waggled in delight, opening his mouth eagerly. Natasha poured a tiny dollop of the pink shake onto his mottled tongue, not sure how much sugar an Inhuman canine could consume. He lapped up the milkshake with strings of pink tinged drool running down the sides of his face. Once Lockjaw was done he gazed hopefully at Natasha for more.

“No, big guy. No more,” she said, clicking the lid firmly back into place.

Reaching over, Kamala vigorously rubbed at Lockjaw’s drooped ears, consoling him,” Don’t pout. I have your favorite treats at the house so you don’t need that nasty sugary stuff.”

Lockjaw butted against her hand and continued to look forlorn. Natasha was tempted to give him another taste but refrained. Instead she lazily twirled the straw in the milkshake, the scraping sound of plastic on plastic grating on their ears. 

Kamala and Lockjaw both cringed at the sound. She slowly pulled the straw out of the lid and pointed it like a sword at the gigantic dog, “I have a proposal for you that you’ll like better than this one dollar diabetes inducer.”

Lockjaw cocked his head to the side in confusion, eyes wide and blinking. Kamala sighed in exasperation, “You could just ask instead of--”  
“What do you say, big guy? Do you want to hear about the better thing that I want to give you?”

His massive head tilted to the other side, ears pricked up and tail just starting to pick up momentum again. Natasha read his body language as a ‘yes’ and continued, “Okay here it is.”

She pulled out her phone and a clip of the kittens sleeping reeled with a soft lullaby playing over the footage. Lockjaw froze, his droopy brown eyes zeroing in on the fluffy bundles on the screen.

Kamala squealed and snatched the phone out of her hands. Natasha relinquished the device without a fight, keeping her gaze locked on the still dog in front of her. 

“They’re so cute and fluffy! I want all of them…” Kamala said wistfully. 

Lockjaw tensed up with a shudder running over his body before he reared back and placed his great paws onto the edge of the plastic table. His rump waggled nonstop and his tongue lolled out the side of his mouth as he attempted to follow where the phone had gone. The table groaned under Lockjaw's weight. Kamala set the phone down and pressed her hands against the giant dog’s chest, “ No, Lockjaw. Off the table. You’re gonna break it!”

A thin crack started to bolt across the table as Lockjaw persisted in his attempt. Natasha picked up her phone and reached over to help Kamala shove him off. The instant her fingers brushed against Lockjaw’s wiry brown fur, a crackling sound came from his head. An electrical current zinged through the air, causing the hair on her arms to stand up. Her eyes widening, she looked up to see the curved tuning fork atop Lockjaw’s head sparking with white light. Natasha started to open her mouth in protest when the light spread from his head to engulf all three of them. Distantly, she felt and heard the table split apart before her hold on her environment was snatched away by a brief, eerie silence. 

Blinking the dark spots out of her vision, Natasha hurriedly removed her hand from Lockjaw’s body. Instantly, she recognized the white marble floor and spiraling columns of the Attilan palace. 

“Lockjaw!” Kamala scolded, wagging a finger at the giant canine. “It is very rude to teleport people without their permission. I thought you would know better by now.”

He ignored her and instead pressed his cold, wet nose against Natasha’s hand. Big, brown eyes blinked up at her sweetly. She narrowed her own eyes back at him and quirked an eyebrow. She would not be bribed by cuteness. She was not as weak as her targets.

“Kamala?” a bewildered voice drifted from the corner of the room. Natasha tore her gaze away from Lockjaw’s pitiful expression to see Queen Medusa glide into the corridor. The monarch noticed her and, after a moment’s pause to decipher her disguise, asked, “Natasha? What are you doing here? Is there an emergency? I haven’t received any alerts.”

“No emergency,” Natasha reassured, cursing the dog next to her. She had been hoping that if Lockjaw were to agree to take a kitten without the Queen or King’s prior knowledge, then they would be forced to keep the kitten when he showed up with one. 

Lockjaw butted his head against Natasha’s hand that held her phone and looked up at the Queen to give a high-pitched whine. 

“No emergency, huh?” Queen Medusa said, arms crossed over her chest, clearly amused by the situation in front of her. “Then to what do we owe the pleasure of having the Great Black Widow in our palace?”

“Well, you see,” Kamala attempted to explain. “I was in this alley because I thought a crazy spy lady was stalking me, but it turned out to be Natasha and she wanted to find Lockjaw--”

“Short story shorter,” Natasha cut in. “We had crappy milkshakes and I tried convincing Lockjaw to take a kitten and then we ended up here.”

“A kitten? So this is about you trying to trick us into acquiring one of your cat’s many offspring, huh?” A strand of her red hair extended forward and curled around Natasha’s phone, tugging at it gently. “I think it would be best if someone who wasn’t colorblind picked out the new member of our family.”

Taking in the Queen’s relaxed stance and light-hearted smile, Natasha realized, “You knew I was going to do this.”

She relinquished her grip on her phone and the red locks retracted back to their owner.

“Well, sorry to take the fun out of your game,” Queen Medusa said, not sounding apologetic at all. “But I do have connections that warn me about potential espionage of any kind.” 

“Was it Steve?”

“No, it was Coulson.”

Damn that man. While this had been a scenario she had thought might happen, she hadn’t believed that he would actually sell her out.

“What’s the passcode?” Queen Medusa inquired as she tapped impatiently at the screen with her thumbnail.

A few minutes later, the four of them were huddled together watching a video of Steve sleeping while thirteen kittens crawled all over his body. One entitled kitten curled up on his forehead and glared imperiously down at her siblings, whacking one of her brother’s off when he tried to join her. The little tom mewled as he was bowled over, nearly tumbling off the sofa until Steve caught him and placed him back on his chest, not once opening his eyes. A black and white she-kitten batted at Steve’s chin and he moved her near the little tom. She promptly latched her teeth onto his ear and he kicked at her with his back legs. 

“They are quite the handful,” observed the Queen.

“I want one,” Kamala whimpered. “So. Frickin’. Cute.”

“Your parents barely let you keep Lockjaw,” Natasha pointed out.

“I know,” Kamala sighed, extending her hand until her fingers almost touched the screen. “But I can always dream about what might have been.”

“Or you can come visit and play with the new kitten,” suggested Queen Medusa, switching the screen away from the videos to the photos. “Is this the father? I didn’t know you had two cats before.”

In the picture, J.A.M.P.A. was dutifully standing over the sleeping kittens curled around Liho. The mother cat had her ears pinned and was glaring up at the much larger robocat. 

“No. That’s Tony’s cat.”

“Since when does Tony have a cat?” she asked incredulously.

“He built one.”

“Ah,” Queen Medusa nodded along with Kamala. “Makes sense. Has anyone claimed this one yet?”

She was pointing at the calico kitten that had sat on Steve’s face in the video. The photo showed the kitten playing with a ball of purple yarn that was entangled around her short legs. Natasha pretended to think it over before she answered, “ No, I don’t think so. Is that the one you want?”

“Don’t know. Lockjaw, what do you think?”

Lockjaw shoved his way to rest his head in the Queen’s lap. He squinted at the screen and then licked it.

“Okay. We’ll take that one.”


	8. Chapter 8

***************

The Next Day…

Avengers Tower...

***************

The smell of coffee was so thick in the labs, Natasha was surprised she didn’t see a flock of Hawkeyes descending from the vents. 

While Jane was partially hidden underneath a machine, Darcy was pacing up and down in front of a dozen coffee machines like a drill sergeant. Her back was ramrod straight, arms clasped behind her back, face neutral and focused despite her skewed glasses. 

“Knock, knock,” Natasha chimed as she breezed into the room. 

Jane waved a foot in her general direction as a greeting. Darcy about-faced, gave her a stiff nod and then continued on with her pacing.

She crept closer to Jane, kneeling down close, and in a hushed voice, asked, “What’s going on with your assistant?”

Jane’s voice was muffled by the elaborate machinery, “Darcy is in the middle of conducting a life changing experiment. While we were in space, she was able to get ‘space coffee beans’ indigenous to some of the planets we visited. She wants to see if they taste better or have greater energizing qualities than Earth coffee.” 

“Uh-huh, and she’s acting like a deranged militarist because…?” she trailed off as Darcy’s right half of her face started to twitch when she completed another circuit.

“She sacrificed her allotment of coffee for the experiment. Plus, she’s guarding them against the caffeine addicts in the building. I think she said something earlier about doing a single-blind study.”

“That would be the best way to test the results, “ Natasha commented, deciding to get her own reasonable caffeine fix outside of the Tower for the next few weeks. 

Jane shimmied out from underneath her contraption, her face and arms streaked with oil. A band-aid featuring Lion-O was plastered to her forehead and she rubbed at it absently as she sat up, “What brings you down here? Is there something you need?”

“Thor cornered me in the hallway earlier. I told him that he could come over this weekend to pick out which kittens he wants,” she replied, her ears still ringing from Thor’s earlier enthusiasm upon hearing the news. “He said that he was planning on acquiring many valuable steeds. I was wondering if he meant ‘steed’ in the sense we mean ‘steed’ or if this is an Asgardian term that is poorly translated.”

“Nope, steed is still steed even when translated,” Jane explained, grabbing a rag and trying to wipe the grease splotches off of her arms. The cloth smeared the black substance even more on her skin. Natasha was surprised that Jane wasn’t horrified that her extraterrestrial partner was planning on riding tiny kittens off into the cosmos. 

“He does know that Earth cats don’t grow to be the size of horses, right?’

“Yep.”

Natasha frowned, “I don’t think I’m comfortable with this arrangement.”

Jane narrowed her eyes and wryly stated, “It really is astounding how people continue to assume that Thor is completely clueless to Earth customs. They don’t even really realize when he is deliberately messing with them half of the time.”

Before Natasha could respond to that devious revelation, she nodded her head in Darcy’s direction and whispered conspiratorially, “Don’t feel too bad, you’re not the first or the last to be tricked by him. See all the ‘space’ coffee? It was all just Folgers that he put in fancy containers and gave her as a gift on each planet we landed on.”

“That sounds like a very Loki-like thing for Thor to do,” Natasha said with a frown.

“They are brothers,” Jane pointed out as she stood up. Natasha followed suit.

As they approached the counter, Jane extended an arm to pour a cup of coffee while Darcy’s back was turned. The assistant instantly froze and swiveled around to glare menacingly at her boss, hissing, “Don’t. You. Dare.”

Jane rolled her eyes and grasped the black handle of the coffeepot. Darcy growled, “I guess you leave me with no choice.”

Natasha took a step back as Darcy whipped out a slim remote from her bra. She swiftly clicked a button. Almost instantaneously, Jane yelped and released her grip on the coffeepot, clutching her hand to her chest, “What the hell? I just wanted a cup. One cup. Was that too much to ask for?”

“Yes,” Darcy nodded, unsympathetic, finger poised to press the button again. 

Jane stalked off, muttering darkly under her breath. Natasha stayed behind and glanced at the coffeepot and then back at Darcy, raising an eyebrow daringly. Darcy’s rouged lips curled up into a snarl, and she pointed the remote at her threateningly, “Don’t test me.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, spinning on her heel and going after Jane. She had better things to do than test her strength against a coffee-addict in withdrawal. If she really wanted to do that and have more of a challenge, she could just lock Clint or Kate in a room for a few hours.

“One last thing before I leave,” Natasha called, catching up to the taller woman. “When Thor comes over this weekend, at what number of kittens should I tell him ‘no’? Because from the way he was talking earlier, it sounded like he wanted...all of them.”

“Two. I told him the limit is two. If he tells you any different he’s lying.”

***************

Three Days Later…

Kate’s Apartment...

***************

Kate was stretched out on her purple suede couch, one arm flung over her eyes and a bare foot hanging off the edge. Her breathing was rhythmically deep and even. As Natasha stepped closer, the beams of the setting sun streaming through the large windows reflected on a thin stream of drool pooled at the corner of her mouth. 

She picked up the lavender afghan off the floor, draping it across Kate’s body. The younger woman twitched and curled her free hand around the knitted blanket.

Satisfied that Kate was sleeping comfortably, Natasha made her way into the kitchen. The space was much neater than Clint’s, although there were dishes in the sink and several quivers worth of arrows laid out on the counters. Tranquilizer testing, if she had to guess, warily avoiding stepping too close to the counter space. Stashed away at the top of the chrome fridge, she found Kate’s purse.

Within, she found not one, not two, but three cell phones. One for normal friends and family, one for superhero friends and family, and one strictly for business. Smart girl. Trying to organize her life into something that made sense. Eventually she would learn that that never worked. Not for any of them.

Natasha slipped a small USB drive out of her pocket, clicking it into each of the phones’ ports. A small red light blinked once it had copied and downloaded all information off the device.

She pocketed the drive and placed the purse back into its original place. As she made her way out of the apartment, Natasha paused to take a quick picture of Kate--sprawled out with her mouth wide open, dark circles under her eyes, relaxed and at peace.

***************

A Day Later…

Natasha’s Apartment...

***************

Thor was dripping in kittens. All of the tiny bundles were apparently drawn to the God of Thunder the way moths were drawn to a flame. The effect did not only end at the kittens, as Liho herself was draped across one of his shoulders and looked smug about her perch. J.A.M.P.A. had disappeared shortly before Thor’s appearance.

“Darcy, my Shield Sister, which of these valiant creatures do you believe is worthy of joining the royal family of Asgard?” he beseeched the petite woman seated next to him. 

Darcy took a savoring sip from the mug in her hand, almost vibrating in her seat, “I don’t know. Whichever one won’t lie about the existence of space coffee beans. That’s the one you should pick.”

One of the kittens climbed in her lap, mewing up at her for attention. She softened in her anger a little, scratching him under his chin. Natasha cleared her throat and suggested smoothly, “You know, I still have plenty of kittens that need good homes if you want to pick one out.”

“They are adorable little snookums,” Darcy conceded, cooing the last two words at the black kitten in her lap. Natasha felt a brief flash of hope that maybe she had found a perfect match. “But I’m allergic. Like, I’m-going-to-be-popping-pills-for-a-week-after-this-visit allergic.”

“Then why are you here?” she asked, baffled as Darcy expertly balanced her drink in one hand and pulled the kitten up for multiple smooches on his tiny head. The black tom purred like a motor, basking in the attention. He wasn’t the runt of the litter, but he was the most likely to be pinned by his littermates. He was also the most needy one of the bunch and that was saying alot, considering all of the kittens felt the need to be on a person or their mother or their robo-surrogate mother at all times.

Darcy shrugged, “I’m allergic, not heartless. And I drank so much not-space coffee that I can’t sit still for longer than five minutes without feeling like I’m about to have a heart attack. Speaking of which--”

She balanced the black tom on her shoulder and stood up, “--would you mind if I paced around your apartment like a deranged person before I lose what few marbles I have left?”

“Sure, go ahead. Just stay out of my bedroom and the weapons closet at the end of the hall,” Natasha advised. Darcy looked intrigued by both forbidden areas, but before she could question her, her leg started to bounce at a rapid pace and she shot off. A few of the other kittens lost interest in Thor to dart after her.

Natasha turned her attention back to Thor. He held two kittens in each hand, frowning, “They all have wonderful characters. Yet, it is difficult to decide and it seems that to separate such a close family seems dishonorable. Perhaps if I were to adopt all--”

“Only two, Thor,” the words were bitter as she said them. “Jane said two and we have to respect her wishes.” 

Thor nodded, returning to inspecting the kittens, which involved many bellyrubs and loud praise. The kittens preened at the attention. Liho was contentedly drifting off into sleep. Natasha, having planned that this would take a few hours, grabbed her laptop off the side table and made her way into the kitchen. She had several cases she could be working on. 

Four hours, seventeen minutes, and twenty-four seconds later; Natasha was staring at her computer’s screen, Darcy was passed out in the hallway with her mug clutched to her chest and the black kitten curled up inside it, while Thor was finishing up.

“All of you will grow up to be warriors worthy of Valhalla,” Thor informed the litter around him gravely. “I would be honored to welcome all of you into my home and heart, but I sadly must comply to my Lady Jane’s wishes...”

Natasha bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing.

“You must feel no shame for not being one of the chosen. While I have taken both a sister and a brother from your family to join the ranks of royalty, I hope that this ascension will cause no quarrels within your clan. They were picked because they displayed qualities that distinguished them from the rest. Qualities that would allow for easier integration into Asgardian society.”

Darcy stirred and muttered in sleepy confusion, “‘s Thor making an epic speech to cats or am I hal-lucin’ning again…?”

Before Natasha could comment on that, Thor looked up and announced with grandeur, “Lady Natasha, I have made my decision!”

He stood up and walked into the kitchen, a kitten nestled in each palm. Natasha recognized the remaining calico she-kitten and a little black tom with white paws and a white splash across his chest that resembled a breastplate. They were the only kittens in the litter that had long fur. Natasha felt it was necessary to assume that the ‘distinguished qualities’ were related to that feature.

“I have named this one Gry, for the rising sun on her flank,” he held up the kitten high, in a way that reminded her of the beginning of Lion King. “Her brother I have bestowed the name Dag for the brightness of his golden eyes.”

Dag was ascended to meet his sister. His pelt puffed out as he peeked to view the ground beneath, letting out a distressed mewl. Gry cast a bored look around her, her tail lashing impatiently. Thor lowered the siblings, appearing rather pleased with himself as he held them close. For a man that nearly dwarfed everyone except the Hulk, he looked disturbingly like a little boy who had just solved a difficult puzzle and wanted to be praised.

“Lovely names,” Natasha said with a wide smile, for the first time reveling in the absurdity that she had created for herself.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this will be my last update for awhile, I don't think I'll post more until either it is finished or reaches double the word count it is now. Whichever comes first. I hope y'all enjoyed reading this! I can't give an exact date but I would say new updates should happen towards the middle/end of summer. It all depends on my classes' work loads. And inspiration to write. 
> 
> Also, I would greatly appreciate comments on this story so that I can know that there is interest in it--I'm not going to withhold continuing or anything (I love this story too much) but it would be nice to interact with readers a little more.

***************

Four Days Later…

3 A.M….

Steve and Bucky’s Apartment...

***************

“I know this is last minute,” Natasha stated, looking cool and composed despite her abrupt awakening. “But would you mind checking in on the cats while we’re away? My neighbor who usually does it is out of town and the Hawkeyes are coming with us, apparently.”

Bucky shrugged, pouring a large amount of mixed chocolate chips into a bowl already halfway filled with marshmallow fluff and almond slivers. He topped off the mixture with a flood of chocolate syrup. 

“I guess I can, I mean they can’t be worse than our dogs, right?”

Steve’s brow furrowed and he started to open his mouth, but before he could say what was on his mind, an irritated voice boomed over their communicators, “Alright, Grandpa America, should I call Life Alert to help you out of bed? Did your hearing start failing you, we have a world to save!”

“You would think that after all those years asleep, he wouldn’t need that much incentive to wake up,” another voice, a feminine one, chimed in.

Natasha tugged on Steve’s arms and they both dashed out the window, her calling out a quick “Thank you!” over her shoulder as they dove towards the pavement. He heard their rapid footsteps echo amidst the honking horns and soft ebb of music in the neighborhood. He listened until he could no longer distinguish any sound of them in the mad rush.

Bucky gave another wheezing squeeze to the brown syrup bottle, distantly wondering what would have happened if he had denied Natasha’s request. If he had grabbed a few guns and a mask, offering to join them. If they would let him. If he could handle the pressure without decimating all the progress he had made.

A cold, wet nose pressed against his kneecap. Rover nervously blinked his big brown eyes up at him. The anxious energy and abruptness surrounding Steve and Nat’s departure must have scared him. 

After shutting and locking the window, he gathered his late pre-breakfast snack and nudged at the not-really-a-puppy’s belly with his big toe, walking into the living room. Rover happily padded alongside him, brushing his side against Bucky’s leg for reassurance. 

The other three pups were still asleep in their bed that was in a corner of the room right next to the couch. Fido lifted his head a little as Bucky sat down, but dropped back down like dead weight a second later. Rover leapt onto the sofa and wiggled his way into Bucky’s lap, looking hopefully at the concoction in the bowl.

Bucky felt that a good owner would command their dog to get off and to stop begging for food. Instead, he readjusted Rover to rest more comfortably over his legs and balanced the bowl on the arm rest.

Except for the soft fluttering breaths of the dogs and the quick scratching scrape of his silver spoon against the ceramic of the bowl, the dark apartment held a muffled sort of silence within its walls. Turning the television on would drown out the hollowness that enveloped him, but the remote was across the room and Rover was a boneless puddle in his lap.

Bucky leaned back into the cushions, his head thrown back. A nasty little voice in his head hissed that his position was too vulnerable, too relaxed. His metal arm whirred as he tightened his fist, bending the handle of the spoon in his grasp. He took a deep breath--held it for a beat--let it out slowly through his mouth. 

Rover flipped onto his back, gangly legs sprawled in the air, one pressed into Bucky’s stomach. He gently moved the appendage away.

Bucky closed his eyes and they remained closed until dawn.

***************

One Day Later…

9 A.M….

Natasha’s Apartment...

***************

When Bucky had agreed to watch the kittens, he had decided against telling Nat and Steve in such a crucial moment that he had discovered with some soul searching that he hated cats. It wasn’t some remarkable revelation regarding a particular memory from the forties or any disturbing flashback from his time as Soldat.

Cats were just so...evil, in his opinion. They were demanding, clawing, biting spawns of Satan. 

An argument could be made that the only cats he had ever interacted with were Niels and Liho, but he found them to be perfect examples of their species. The first time he met Niels, he had pet the cat to be polite, only for the little beast to turn around a minute later, ripping into his flesh hand until it bled. Liho’s crimes were more severe; she never had anything to do with anyone unless she wanted something and (an unforgivable crime) she hit Lady just to be spiteful. 

With that in mind, Bucky arrived at Natasha’s apartment sans any of his dogs. He didn’t want to risk any of them being traumatized.

The apartment was quiet. He slowly made his way towards the kitchen, the creeping feeling of having eyes on his every move hounding his every step. Once, in the corner of his eye he saw a small, dark shadow dart into a pitch black room.

Bucky scoured the cabinets trying to locate the bags of cat food. He paused when a larger, bulkier, redder creature skulked into his peripheral vision. 

“The bowls and sustenance are in the left lower corner cabinet, Sergeant Barnes,” J.A.M.P.A. helpfully supplied, sitting unnaturally still on the linoleum floor. Its pupiless square eyes assessed him blankly. Scanning his person for weapons, he assumed.

He pulled out the collection of silver bowls. The medium-sized one he dipped into the green cat food bag. Perhaps if he offered food first to the she-devil mother, her and her many offspring would take pity on him.

Setting the bowl gently on the floor, Bucky reached for one of the larger ones to scoop into the bag. 

J.A.M.P.A.’s voice cut through the room, stopping him,“No, Sergeant Barnes. The kittens eat the wet food located next to Liho’s.”

He grabbed the cans, peeling them open and plopping the pink innards into the bowls. The musty, fishy smell wafted up and made him want to gag. He suddenly felt grateful that the pups had been old enough to eat dry food when he bought them. After setting the bowls in a straight line and throwing the empty cans away, Bucky leaned against the island counter waiting for the cats to appear.

As the minutes ticked by slowly, Bucky started to question whether he had closed the front door on the way in. Maybe all fourteen of the devils had snuck out to bring havoc down upon the city. 

He looked into the living room, expecting to see the horde stampeding towards him. Instead he met the gaze of one little kitten nervously peeking out from underneath the sofa. When the kitten saw him, it reeled backwards and disappeared into the dark recess. 

Bucky shrugged. Maybe they would come out when he came back for their noon feeding. Or not. He really didn’t care either way.

***************

12 P.M….

Natasha’s Apartment...

***************

“Hello, Sergeant Barnes,” greeted J.A.M.P.A.. The robot was seated in the entryway, bushy tail flicking with perfectly timed intervals.

Bucky nodded absently, striding past it.

In the kitchen, he found a furry black and white bundle curled up in Liho’s bowl. The black half lifted its head to glare up suspiciously as he opened up more cans to put in the other bowls. Once he had the bowls set back into a neat line, he straightened up and prepared to leave. 

He reached the doorway, where J.A.M.P.A. still sat, blocking his path. “Sergeant Barnes, it is necessary that you wait for the kittens to be fed. Since it is not Liho’s meal time, she may attempt to consume the kittens food.”

Not even Liho’s own children were excused from her selfishness, apparently. “Can’t you force her to leave them in peace? I’d like to go get lunch and--”

“Agent Romanoff has you listed as a Level-A guest. You are welcome to any food in the apartment as long as it is consumed in reasonable quantities,” J.A.M.P.A. insisted, unmoving. “I am unable to enact any defensive maneuvers against Liho as it would be against my programming.”

“Thanks, Tony,” Bucky muttered under his breath as turned back into the kitchen.

“I shall send a message to Mr. Stark informing him of your thanks,” J.A.M.P.A. said. “He will be happy to hear praise over his creations.”

Bucky was unsure whether J.A.M.P.A. had been designed to have a sense of humor, so he kept his mouth shut. He opened the chrome fridge and inspected the contents inside. After grabbing a small tupperware container that contained creamed potato soup and nuking it in the microwave, he hopped onto the island counter. Bucky tilted the container back and slurped down a few gulps of the scalding soup. 

It was good. Could’ve used some more bacon, in his opinion, and extra cheese.

The black and white puddle of fur unwound with dramatic stretches and yawns that showed their pinprick white fangs. The white kitten casually shoved its sibling out of the bowl with both front paws. The black kitten rolled on the ground, ears pinned back. It stood up and found its way to one of the bowls. 

The second its little mouth grabbed a small bite, the rest of the horde descended.

From cabinets and ceilings and thin air and holes in the ground; Bucky had no idea where they all came from. One second there were two and the next there were hundreds swarming in a mess of black, white, and orange. The black kitten was soon shoved away towards another bowl and it climbed onto the back of an orange kitten to reach the food, front paws delicately balanced on the back of its sibling’s head. A fluffy calico kitten snapped its jaws around another kitten’s paw that had landed in the pink mush. The white kitten batted at the calico one until it released its hold on their squealing sibling. The calico kitten reluctantly let go and pounced onto the white kitten, viciously kicking with its back legs.

Another calico kitten, after daintily eating its fill, stood apart from the litter to clean its face. Soon a black and white kitten stepped back as well and started to help, licking the black streak on the calico kitten’s nose. 

A black and white kitten crawled into one of the bowls, paws kneading into the blended slush. The other kittens gathered around the bowl took that as an invitation and started to clamor in next to their sibling, shoving and biting their way into the not nearly big enough space.

Bucky was becoming invested in which of the little monsters would win the coveted place inside the bowl, so much so that he almost missed when the queen mother of them all slipped into the room like a black shadow. She circled around her children, assessing the chaos they caused among themselves coolly. Then, she glanced up to meet Bucky’s eyes, stepping closer to the bowls that had the least amount of kittens surrounding it.

Bucky set the nearly empty tupperware container on the marble top, and slid down to the ground. The instant his first foot touched the floor, the swarm dispersed back into the cabinets and ceilings and thin air and holes in the ground.

Liho dropped her gaze to the bowls. Thankfully, they were nearly empty except for a few scrap morsels. She started licking at the first bowl eagerly.

He decided it wouldn’t be worth the fight to stop her over so little.

Feeling a little bit generous and forgiving, Bucky knelt down and extended his flesh hand out towards Liho. She lifted up her head, licking her lips. Slowly, she stretched her neck out to sniff curiously at his fingers. She gave one final, thorough swipe of her tongue along her lips. She froze. Her eyes narrowed.

The Liho hissed, retreating back into herself.

Bucky wasn’t sure what he was expecting to happen, but it wasn’t that.

***************

3 P.M.... 

Natasha’s Apartment...

***************`

When Bucky opened the door, he expected to see J.A.M.P.A. sitting in the entryway again, prepared to give him instructions. He was surprised when he stepped into an empty room, only a rack of Natasha’s jackets taking up space. 

Maybe the robot needed to plug into a charging station.

Bucky made his way into the kitchen. He froze as he saw a new overseer waiting for him there. Liho was stretched out on the island countertop, relaxed like a panther after a hunt. Instead of looking at him or hissing at him, she had decided to completely ignore his presence entirely and her head was turned in the opposite direction.

He rolled his eyes. As long as she didn’t change her mind and attack him, he was fine with this arrangement.

Bucky knelt and opened the cabinet. He grabbed the cans and set most on the floor next to him, keeping one grasped in his hand to open. Quickly, he pulled back the tab and the shiny golden lid peeled off. After pouring the contents into one of the bowls, he reached blindly down to grasp another. Instead of the coldness of metal, his flesh fingers met fluffy fur. 

Surprised, he turned slightly and saw a little orange kitten blinking up at him with large, yellow-green eyes. It let out a resounding mew and waddled closer to him. 

When it was close enough, the little kitten reached up with its paws and latched its claws into the material of his cargo pants, hauling itself up to balance on top of Bucky’s knee. Still meowing with squeaky complaints, the kitten proceeded to climb up the length of his body until it was curled up on his shoulder. 

Throughout the entire process, Bucky remained frozen. Not because he was being considerate to the little demon that so lovingly dug its thorn-like talons into his skin. No, it was because Liho from her perch had locked blazing eyes onto his, daring him to make the wrong move. 

Bucky was precariously unsure whether Liho would attack him simply because he was in contact with her minion or just to solidify her status as the Mistress of the Apartment. 

He carefully filled the other bowls, the orange kitten purring and chewing on his hair. Once he was done, he reached up to peel the tiny monster off of him. The kitten growled in protest and hooked its claws into his shirt. Bucky gently pried them out of the cotton of his shirt and set the kitten in front of one of the bowls. It immediately stopped complaining when introduced to food.

The rest of the litter flowed into the room, weaving around his feet as he navigated through the mass to stand in a kitten-free space. 

As he hopped onto the counter, legs swinging over the edge, Liho gracefully descended from her high seat. Miraculously, she did not land on any of the kittens. 

“Liho,” he warned, starting to slide off the counter.

Liho ignored him and haughtily walked towards one of the dishes, her tail curved over her back. Bucky scowled and slapped a foot down on the floor, his flip flop meeting the linoleum with a snap. 

The kittens jumped, a few fleeing to parts unknown, the others hovering closer to their food. Liho’s ear twitched as she stepped forward to take the place of the ones who had left.

Bucky stalked forward, shoulders tense. Towering over the lot of them, Liho still studiously ignoring him, he quickly decided the best course of action and hated what he had to do. Bucky bent at the waist, reaching out a hand towards Liho.

Liho hissed, but refused to budge. 

His flesh hand snapped forward, fingers firmly grasping the scruff on the back of her neck. A gurgling growl reverberated throughout her stiff body. He lifted her front paws off of the ground and snaked his metal arm underneath her torso. Picking up the struggling cat, Bucky navigated his way into the living room.

Bucky kept her a few inches away from his person not trusting how he would react if Liho landed a blood drawing hit on him.

 

When he was sure enough time had passed for the kittens to have finished their meal, he dropped Liho, who he trusted would land on her feet, and made a mad dash for the front door before she could retaliate.

***************

6 P.M.... 

Natasha’s Apartment...

***************`

Bucky opened the door a crack, just enough to steal a peek into the entryway with one eye. He had considered sneaking in through one of the side windows, but had realized that Natasha was smart (paranoid) enough to have rigged them with security measures. While he was confident enough in his abilities to disable them, he was less confident that he could handle an irate Nat who would feel the need to move since her apartment would be ‘compromised’ even if by a friend. Even if she broke into other people’s homes on a disturbingly regular basis. 

His eye detected no black monster hiding in the shadows. He slowly crept into the room and painstakingly shut the door so it wouldn’t make a sound. 

J.A.M.P.A., apparently back from whatever the robot had been doing earlier, was seated in front of the food cabinet. “Welcome back, Sergeant Barnes.”

Bucky gave a nod in greeting, crouching down to open the cabinet and gather the bowls. He filled Liho’s first as a courtesy. He picked up the cans, standing up and setting them on the counter. 

He pulled back the tab on the first can. 

A mew from the doorway drew his attention. Bucky glanced up and saw a black and white kitten standing alone in the center. It fixed its gaze on the can in his hands and let loose another mewl. Behind it, two other kittens materialized. The three pressed against one another, their cries mingling together, round eyes following his every motion. 

Bucky decided to ignore them. He dumped the muck into one of the bowls and shoved it to the side. 

He pulled back the tab on the second can.

The yowling grew louder as the number of voices multiplied and drifted closer in proximity. The next time he looked in their direction, the number of kittens had shot up to seven. They wove together in a ravenous ball like bees in a hive. Bucky felt a chill come over him as he met the demonically bright green eyes of a white kitten that had reared over the heads of the rest of the bestial unit.

He grabbed the third can, nervously rolling it over the palm of his metal hand before pulling the tab back.

Bucky felt a tug on his pants and he looked down to see the orange kitten from earlier. It was standing on its hind legs, kneading its white claws into the thick fabric, mewling piteously. He gently shook his leg, trying to unlatch the kitten from his clothes.

It held on stubbornly and proceeded to climb up the length of his leg. 

Bucky felt that the best course of action was to just ignore it. He tapped the edges of the can to get the rest of it's disgusting contents out before picking up the next one. 

The kitten had reached the waistline of his pants when he felt a brush against the inside of his leg and the now familiar tug of tiny paws. Bucky let out a long suffering sigh, muttering to the orange kitten, “Now look at what you started, you little shit.”

Then, he finally took in the sight below him and froze. 

They were all there, rubbing against his legs, pawing at the cloth of his pants, shrieking their complaints, chewing at the straps of his sandals. One other beastly kitten had started the trek up his body, holding itself more tightly than the orange kitten had. He could feel its razored claws just glancing his skin as it made its way. Two more kittens hopped onto his other leg and he tried to shake them off. The other kittens followed the movement of his leg, all turning towards it like moths hypnotized by a flame. All thirteen kittens then proceeded to latch onto his leg, scuttling up with surprisingly quick movements for such short limbs.

The orange kitten, now on his shoulder, mewed into his ear what he hoped was an apology. 

Bucky picked up the next can even as his skin crawled at the pinprick pressures against his skin and the litany of noises that rose from the monsters’ throats. He took a deep, shaky breath and hooked his pointer finger in the ring of the tab. The metal of the ring bit into the flesh. The purring against his ear was a constant rumble. The cries below him were closing in, screams surrounding him at all sides. The heavy weight steadily bearing down on his legs. The sharp prick of needles scraping his skin.

The abrupt puncture of one penetrating his skin. He barely felt the rough of the edge glide into the epidermis and the swell of blood before he reached down to slap them away--get rid of the source of suffocation--fight his way out--run away--fight--run away--fight--

The glint of his metal arm hovering above and dwarfing the head of a tiny kitten snapped him out of his trance. 

Bucky blinked. The kitten blinked back at him.

The other kittens seemed to have paused, startled by his tense and sudden action. 

Bucky took in a deep, measured breath. Counted to ten. He let it out. Counted to ten. Repeated that three more times before he felt the anxiety from the attack abate. 

The kitten whose skull he had almost crushed batted at his cold metal fingertips with a curious white paw. He clenched his hand into a fist, not wanting to touch the kitten with such a hideously deadly thing. The kitten took that as a challenge, crawling up a few more inches to rub its chin against the plated ridges of his wrist. 

Bucky pulled his arm back. He pulled back the tab and commented, “ I thought you was s’posed to defend the kittens against whatever came at them? Isn’t that something you said Tony programmed you to do? Seems like your programming needs a little more adjustments. I could have killed one in the second you didn’t respond.”

J.A.M.P.A. gave a low--almost believable--chuckle, “Sergeant Barnes, I had my eyes on you every time you were present. If you had laid a single ill-intended finger on one of the kittens, that hand would be gone.”


End file.
